


Into the Grey

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A good sibling not an all powerful jerk, Action/Adventure, Angst, Asher has her own destiny, Betrayal, Dark Lords run amok, F/M, Gen, Harry is the Chosen One, Lies, M/M, Mostly Set in HP Universe, Not Fifty Shades, Past Lives, Romance, Shades of Grey, Shamelessly used Amy and Clara's stories to make up one for OC, Suspense, The Grey Rebellion, Time Travel, Twin Potters, With Bits of Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly/pseuds/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you stare into the abyss, the abyss will stare into you. As two very different lives clash inside of Asher Potter's mind, she struggles to find her footing the world on the brink of war, and it's not only the Dark Lord after her twin brother, Harry, that threatens all that they hold dear. The greater darkness may come from Asher herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This is not a fem!Harry. It is a sibling fic, however this is not the mistake bwl, or Harry’s twin is a git. Harry’s twin is NOT all powerful, and not a Mary Sue. Harry is the one who defeated Voldemort, and will again, not his twin. That destiny is his own. His twin has a destiny of her own. Also while this will start close to the books, by the third chapter it will start to branch and truly start take a life of it’s own. Felt the need to point this out.
> 
>  
> 
> Inspiration: It actually started with a song “Who You Are” by Jessie J, followed by a soundtrack by the Aviators. It was their new soundtrack “Aterno” which is about a world where nothing remains, where a young boy that changed the future by finding truth in the past. It is an amazing instrumental soundtrack, I haven’t heard any lyrical pieces, but I’ve only been through half of the songs. Other songs that have helped inspire me to write this fic will be down below in the Soundtrack at the end of the chapter. Also I’ve been a huge fan of Harry Potter since it first came out when I was ten, and been a fan of Doctor Who forever. I write better when I make an Original Character, but until now couldn’t find a good bases for a character. I wanted to make a character who wasn’t necessarily a hero, a broken figure that could trail the line of Grey inbetween the Light and Dark. Finally inspiration struck and this is what I’ve written. I took a bit of Amy Pond and Clara’s stories to create hers, and from there I gave it a life of it’s own. Hope you will enjoy.

INTO THE GREY

__

By ThroughtheMirrorDarkly

* * *

THEN

The tale of the Boy-Who-Lived was wide known.  


There wasn’t a wizard or witch who didn’t know his name, or the way he stopped the Dark Lord as a baby. The story of his younger twin sister was Asher was lesser known, only a select few knew the true depths of it—that was probably a good thing. It was a complicated twisted and tangled mess, though that was no fault of her own.  
It all started with a crack in the wall. At first, it was an unassuming thing. An easy fix with some plaster, but then it started to whisper, and glow.  


Dudley noticed it first. It was in his room after all, and it scared him. He screamed for his parents one night, and then suddenly the Dursleys were no more. There were not even a thought as if they had ceased to exist completely. Harry and Asher carried on because they remembered nothing else except for the two of them in Privet Four taking care of themselves. It had been a nice time, but it sadly did not last. It was early morning, Asher had passed the room. The room that used to be Dudley’s, and she heard a faint a whisper. With wide eyes, she cracked open the door and saw the crack glowing ominously on the wall. She did what any younger sibling would do…she went and got Harry.  


Harry had always protected her, and the next moment, he was gone. Just like Dursleys.  


And Asher remembered always being alone.  


At least, that was until a woman called Amy Pond came crashing into her life bringing an impossible man and his blue box along with her to fix it all. Mostly.

* * *

NOW

The neighborhood was exactly how she left it. 

Nice and quiet, though there was a sense of change as a blue box appeared from seemingly nowhere with a loud creaking noise onto the outskirts of Privet Drive as if it belonged there. Grey clouds slowly blotted out the afternoon sun, but was small relief against the sweltering heat. The door opened up, and a young woman stepped out. Her hazel eyes with flecks of emerald peered out at the world around with a wary expression on her face. There was a tremble beneath her feet, she felt like something irrevocably shifted and Asher Potter was not quite certain what that was. The scenery seemed the same, but perhaps it was not the scenery that changed. 

It really was her that had changed, and in so many ways. Her long auburn waves hung down her back, longer than she had liked, but cutting her hair hadn’t been the primary concern in the recent few months. Her hazel eyes looked down at her hands, and she wondered just how old she really was? She was supposed to be fifteen, and instead she was physically twenty. Mentally…well, it was best not to get into that. Did that make her the older sibling now? Why, she believed it did. She felt way too giddy at the revelation, but that revelation was quickly dampened by one thought. _Would they notice? How could I even begin to explain it all? After all, the truth will set me free right?_ Asher thought with a bitter twist of her lips. 

“How is it?” The Doctor asked, stepping out into the sunlight. His face old and sage as he shoved his hands into his pockets as he examined Privet Drive with a critical eye. It was so boring, and… _ordinary_. He was certain he was getting hives from all the normalcy. “Just as you remembered?” 

“It’s…strange,” Asher said, twisting around to face the Doctor. His face was truer to himself than his previous incarnations had been, showing the true deep of his age and all he had endure yet he was no less the Doctor when she had met him when he traveled with Amy Pond and Rory. Though his accent was different, though he was very adamant that her and Clara were the ones that were talking wrong. Not him. “It’s quieter than I remembered.” 

“Well, that crack in your wall was annoying loud,” the Doctor stated, an edge of distaste in his voice over that whole mess. “Hard to hear any else with all the muttering and buzzing coming out of it.” 

Asher’s brow furrowed. She remembered the ominous crack in her wall, the way it whispered and glowed. The way it gave her nightmares. The way it _still_ gave her nightmares. How it slowly erased everyone out of Number Four Privet Drive until only Asher remained. Of course, Asher remembered nothing of her aunt, her uncle, nor her cousin. She hadn’t even remembered her own brother until the Doctor had fixed the fracture in time. It had stolen their existence from the world, but now everything was as it should be. Mostly, but Asher still remembered the life she had without them. Her stomach turned and twisted into knots. “Doctor…I’m afraid,” she admitted, out loud. Her voice a shaken laugh, that was really not a laugh at all. 

It was truly sad. Here she was afraid of going into her home when traveling with the Doctor, and then when she got lost. She closed her eyes against the images of fire and pain where she knew nothing, except that she somehow still exist. All else had faded. If it had not been for Clara and the Doctor finding her, a happy accident as the Doctor called it, Asher was certain that she would not been here right now. She didn’t understand the specifics of it, but unlike Clara who had jumped into the void of time, by accident Asher had been cast adrift floating through it with no rhythm or reason. The Doctor had to quite literally put her back together molecule by molecule after she had been tore apart at the very seams of her being. They had pieced her back together doing a better job than all the King’s Men had done with Humpty Dumpty, but even now there were still scars. Asher was not certain that she would ever feel completely whole again after the time spent in that place. 

Asher cast the Doctor a look. She knew that he still felt guilty, but it had not been his fault. Asher had made a choice even if she hadn’t quite comprehended the cost of it, but he managed to save her even it had been an eternity later. There was a part of her, a selfish part, that hadn’t wanted to return at all. Just wanted to keep running beside the Doctor for forever so she would never have to confront it all and her wounds head on. The other part of her just couldn’t do that. Harry was all she had in the world, and she was his twin. There was a bond between them that only other twins could ever understand, and she would not leave him alone to face the impending darkness. 

The Doctor looked at her, with those crystal clear eyes that scrutinized her down to her very soul. “Of course, you are afraid,” the Doctor stated, as if that should be obvious. “You’d have been an utter dunderhead not to be, but…” He held up his hands because niceties weren’t this Doctor’s strong suit. “It’s alright to be afraid. It’s only when you’re afraid when you find your courage.” 

“I guess that’s true,” Asher sighed. 

“Of course it’s true,” the Doctor sent her a look. “I said it. Now, here.” He held out her blue backpack that she had stitched and sewed to look like the TARDIS for silly sentimental reason, he gathered. “Don’t want it laying about in the way, and don’t forget the filthy flea ridden mongrel! I found him chewing on my shoes today!” 

Magnus was a large dog with a sheen copper coat, genetically engineered to be a warhound. He had a large muscled body, with broad shoulders and large legs with meaty paws. His ears were short and point on top of square shaped head, and his face was reminiscent of a pit pulls only a little more saggy. He looked a the Doctor with a wounded expression in his large brown doggy eyes, and gave a plaintive whine. 

“I think you’ve hurt his feelings,” Asher stated, with a tiny half smile. 

“He is just being manipulative. I know because I do it, too,” the Doctor scoffed, with an eye roll. “Now, I suppose you want to be one you—what are you doing?” He demanded, when Asher had pulled him into a tight hug. “Ah, yes, well,” the Doctor did not look like he knew what to do and stood there awkwardly. He patted her on the back with one arm, and looked around as if to spot some kind of means to escape. “I…I’ll miss you, too? Now can you let go? I’ve told you and Clara that I do not like all this… _hugging,_ so stop it.” 

Asher let out a laugh, almost startled by the sound before she pulled back. She looked up at the Doctor with a large smile on her face as she slung her backpack over her shoulder. “I really will miss you, Doctor,” she said, a knot of emotion welling up in the back of her throat that she just barely managed to keep in check. She blinked back the tears that threatened to come. It was a good thing she had gotten her good-bye to Clara done because she really couldn’t have kept it together to say good-bye to both of them at the same time. She dabbed a stray tear away with the end of her sleeve, and drew in a deep breath as her heart ached. “I hope that somewhere in time and space that we shall meet again.” 

The Doctor smiled, slightly. “Count on it,” he told her, quietly. “Now go. I have hurry up and drop the other one off for her _date_.” 

“You don’t like Mr. Pink?” Asher arched a brow. The Doctor gave her a flat look which made her laugh, and pressed her fingers to her mouth to swallow her chuckles down. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him with more than a little sadness in her eyes. “Good-bye, Doctor.” 

“Good-bye, Asher. I hope that you will find the home you want,” he told her, before he stepped back into the TARDIS. There was a jolt of panic when that door shut, and she swallowed thickly as she watched with wide eyes as the TARDIS fade away with it’s signature sound that she would sorely miss to hear. She didn’t think she would ever stop waiting to hear it again, and her heart sank into her chest when the TARDIS faded completely out of existence. Asher stood there as still as a statue because for a moment, she forgot how to breath and she reached out with a shaky hand before she let if fall to her side. 

Magnus nudged her side, with a sorrowful whine. He, too, was going miss the Doctor. She ran her fingers through his soft hair, it giving her as much comfort as it did him. Slowly, she turned to face Privet Drive with more than a little trepidation. Asher did not know what would be in there waiting for her. One would think that with spontaneity of traveling with the Doctor that she would be up from anything, with all the running, all the battling, but it was far from reality. Asher had always been a cautious soul, even as a child and that was something that hadn’t changed one bit. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, and her eyes dark with thought. 

Going home wouldn’t be easy though she wasn’t sure in either life, that she ever called Privet Drive home. In one life she grew up along side her twin brother, they went to Hogwarts and learned that there was much more to life than what it seemed. She _had_ lived that life, she had the scars of it. She also had lived the life of recluse, alone in Privet Drive where no one batted an eye at her lonely existence. In one life, she had been quiet and reserved because she had her big brother to stand up for her. In another, Asher had to learn that for herself and as much as she loved her sibling for that could not be stolen away by time like memory, she had no intention of handing over her backbone. 

_Harry will understand,_ she thought, with a brief hesitation. Her brother had always accepted her without conditions and she was hoping that no matter what that would still be true. With the title of boy-who-lived hanging over his head, all that had happened in their previous year of Hogwarts and Voldemort back, Harry would understand that feeling very well. Asher face scrunched up as her head gave a very painful throb. She needed to stop trying to sort out memories right now, otherwise she was going to give herself an aneurism. 

Magnus trotted along side of her, his brown eyes taking in the world around him as his little stub of a tail wagged with abandonment. He sniffed a fire hydrant with extreme interest then without preamble marked it as his territory. 

“Magnus,” Asher scolded, lightly. 

Magnus just cocked his head at her, and continued to do his business. With a shake of her head, she continued to walk ahead. _Pace yourself,_ she reminded herself, like the Doctor had cautioned her to do. She had essentially lived two lives that were now converging inside of her mind, conflicting memories clashed with each other caused for the worst migraine of all time. Asher rubbed her temples as she walked up Magnolia Crescent when an icy sensation hit her like a punch to the gut. She stopped in the middle of the street, and the hair on the back of her neck prickles. 

Asher felt an itch across her skin, her magic spiked in warning and her eyes cast upwards towards the sky, and she walked the star-strewn indigo sky suddenly turn into an inky pitch black—the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps had vanished. Magnus’s carefree composure shifted, and the dog tensed letting out a low warning growl. Something was _very_ wrong, and in the pit of her stomach she knew that Harry was at the heart of it. In the next moment, her feet were slapping across the pavement and she felt the hot air around her turn bone chilling cold as she darted down an alleyway with Magnus by her side. 

She was surrounded by total, impenetrable dark abyss from all sides and she was as the walls and asphalt begin to frost over. It brought back all the horrors of third years with a painful force that nearly sent her toppling over, and she grabbed onto Magnus’s collar as she slowed to a cautious walk. Magnus hadn’t stopped growling, his teeth pulled back in a snarl. She kept her eyes widen open and her ears strained to hear anything besides the heavy sound of her own breathing. “Oh, Doctor, I sure picked a time to come home,” it was an inaudible whisper amongst the silence and her fingers trembled against the wall as she made her way further down the path. 

_The crack was in the living room wall. It had a hauntingly glow, and when Asher got close enough to it she could hear faint whispers. Voices that were calling her name, bidding her to come closer._ The memory was summoned forth by a will that was not her own, and she gritted her teeth against it. 

“I c-can’t see! I’ve g-gone blind! I—” The scream, Asher realized as her heart leapt into her throat, was Dudley’s and it was followed by Harry snapping, sharply, “I said shut up!” 

Magnus barked, shuffling towards anxiously. Asher kept ahold of him not wanting to lose him the darkness, and she blinked against the weightless veil against her eyes trying to make any sign of Harry or Dudley while she held her right head. Magic crackled upon her finger tips, it had never been exactly the same after her fall through time. It had been violent, more volatile and Asher had learned from experience that it could easily backfire back on her. However, she was willing to risk it against Dementors. Her heart was thundering so loud inside of her that she was afraid that she would be heard. 

_She existed. Sometimes she found ways to exist out of this desolate wasteland of time. In so many ways, and in so many forms. The pieces of herself scattered through time in different places and in different lives. Half lives, really. But those lives never lasted long, and she always ended back where she started. Alone, and broken._ Asher bit the inside of her cheek to harshly to back into reality. Her pulse was thudding against the base of her throat and she couldn’t fight the fear striking up her spine. 

There was no way that she would see the Dementors. She would hear them first and half of her wanted to call out for Harry. The sensible half of her won, and she kept her silence. If she called out, she would distract him. That was something that couldn’t happen right now. _What are Dementors doing in Little Whinging?_ She thought, her lips trembling slightly. It was like she had walked into some kind of twisted nightmare. Where Harry had mastered the spell to repel the creatures, Asher had not. She could barely form a mist, if she was lucky. 

“I’ll t-tell Dad!” Dudley whimpered, from somewhere up ahead of her. “W-where are you? What are you d-do—?” 

“Will you shut up?” Harry hissed, “I’m trying to lis —” 

But he fell silent. Asher immediately knew why because she had heard it, too. Long, hoarse, rattling breaths and the air was so cold that Asher felt like she would never be warm again. She could vaguely recall what warmth was. 

Magnus tugged her towards the noise, his ears the best bet of leading her to Harry and Dudley. 

“C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I’ll h-hit you, I swear I will!” 

“Dudley, shut—” 

_WHAM!_ The noise of something solid hitting flesh made Asher jerk forward with shock, and she heard Harry shout, “You moron, Dudley!” There was the sound of scrambling. “DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU’RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!” 

Asher heard Dudley running, and she reached out as if to grab him and stop him. He slid right past her, and slammed into the alleyway falling to the ground. She twisted around to go to him, when a clammy hand clasped around her mouth and she felt fear like she had never felt before spike through her body from head to toe. Another pressed against her cheek in a mock caress urging her towards the Dementor’s face no doubt. She heard it draw in a deep gasp, feeding of her misery and fear. It was like a leech draining the life right out of her and Asher felt tears spring into her eyes. 

_“Asher!”_

_“I can’t stop this! I have to make sure they will never be able to use it to hurt any of us ever again!”_

_“If you die now then it will mean nothing! It will all mean NOTHING!”_ The tears started to slid down her cheeks, and froze along her jaw line. Then she heard a furious growl, and the sound of Magnus’s jaw snapping closed around something. An inhuman shriek pierced through the utter silence of the night, as soon as the Dementor released from it’s grasp she raised her right hand. There were no spell on her lips, only the primal need to fight back. It was like ripped down her arm cracking across her skin, and ripped open her sleeve until it came down to the tips of her fingers as she shoved out against the Dementor’s chest. 

The Dementor screamed, fluttering back and away. 

Asher blindly reached for Magnus’s collar, twice before she got ahold of him. She caught a light out of the corner of her eye, and the pair rushed over to her brother’s side. A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly towards them, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came. 

Stumbling backward, Harry raised his wand. 

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

A silvery wisp of vapor shot from the tip of the wand and the dementor slowed, but the spell hadn’t worked properly. Words of encouragement would do no good here, nor would shrieks of panic. The iciness pressed in on them, choking them and suffocating them. Magnus leapt and snapped, inching forward even though Asher valiantly tried to hold him back. Asher felt utterly useless, a tremor running down her spine as her right arm hung uselessly down at her side. A searing pain burn across her skin from her elbow all the way down to her wrist while rivulets of blood ran down her hand and dripped down off her trembling fingers. Her magic always came with a price. Always. But that did not mean that she would go out without a fight. She sucked in a cold breath, her entire body coiled tight like an angry snake and her eyes narrowed against the darkness. 

_“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_ Harry had summoned happiness forth and an enormous silver stag erupted from the tip of Harry’s wand. It’s antlers caught the dementor in the place where the heart should have been; it was thrown backward, weightless as darkness, and as the stag charged, the dementor swooped away, batlike and defeated. 

Magnus pulled free from Asher grasp, and barked at the stag loudly. Asher licked her lips, and her eyes darted about. “Where is Dudley?” Asher asked, her fist twisted in the back of Harry’s shirt with a sense of urgency. She may never get along with Dudley, and that was an understatement. However, she would never wish such a fate as being kissed by a dementor upon him. Or anyone. 

Magnus suddenly stood at attention giving a light bark, and padded a couple of steps to the right. He yipped again the twins, and Harry’s brow knotted together. “This way,” Harry commanded the stag, and it wheeled around. The twins watched it sprint down the alleyway before they followed. Asher looked in horror as a dementor towered over Dudley, and lowering it’s hood towards Dudley’s face. “No!” Asher screamed. 

“GET IT!” Harry bellowed, and with a rushing, roaring sound, the silver stag he had conjured came galloping back past him. The dementor’s eyeless face was barely an inch from Dudley’s when the silver antlers caught it; the thing was thrown up into the air and, like its fellow, it soared away and was absorbed into the darkness. Asher almost slumped to the ground with shock and relief as the warmth came back as the streetlamps burst back into life. 

The stag cantered to the end of the alleyway to pose majestically and gave them one last look over before he dissolved into silver mist. Magnus jumped forward, sniffing the air and the place where the stag had been before he scratched at the ground with a whine. Asher slowly released her hand on Harry’s shirt, her legs trembling beneath her and her face was still pale as ash. “Did that just happen?” Asher had to ask, still in a bit of disbelief. 

“Yeah…it did,” Harry breathed out. Asher closed her eyes, and took in a much needed breath. She knew that slipping back into her old life would come with great challenges, but she hadn’t anticipated them like this. “Are you alright?” Emerald eyes turned towards her full of concern. 

“I think so,” Asher said, though she was not full convinced of that fact. Black spots danced in front of her vision and she had a metallic taste in the back of her mouth. Her hazel eyes raised up to meet his, and she almost told him that she had missed him. Of course, that would have confused him because they had seen each other early today. She remembered that had happened, yet she also remembered being with Clara and the Doctor. 

The Doctor told her it was better to accept that she had lived two lives, and leave it at that. The inconsistency were always going to be there for her, a haunting reminder of a fractured timeline. She shook her head, shoving time travel and paradoxes to the back of her mind to ponder later. His missing presence had been a physical ache that not even lost memories could erase and there was not a word great enough to express how happy she was to have him back. It was like a balm to soothe her wounds. It may not heal them, but it was a start. “Are you alright?” She countered, a firm edge to her voice that implied bad things would happen to him if he even thought about lying to her. 

Harry paused. “I’m alive,” he replied, his voice raw with exhaustion. Tress rustled in neighboring gardens and the mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again. 

Asher stood, her entire body vibrating with adrenaline while she took in the abrupt return to normal. It was almost surreal how quickly everything melted into chaos, and how quickly reverted back. She still couldn’t believe that Dementors of all things were in Little Whinging. She had expected other things, but not _that._

Magnus stood over Dudley with a decidedly quizzically look on his face. He barked then shuffled back when Dudley gave a light scream, and Magnus looked at Asher half afraid he would be in trouble. “It’s alright, boy. You were very good tonight.” She was reward with a proud bark, and the dog preened like a peacock. “We need to get him up,” she said to Harry, while she knelt beside Dudley who laid curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. She felt a quick stab of pity for him. “I don’t think he can stand on his ow…did you hear that?” 

Harry gave a quick nod as his head twisted around to meet whoever was running towards them, instinctively raising his wand again. His eyes widened when he came face to face with their batty old neighbor, Mrs. Figgs. 

“Mrs. Figgs!” Asher said, too loudly. The woman could not have picked a worse time to show up. “How serendipitous! Dudley seems to be having a fit and we are in need—” 

Mrs. Figgs cut off Asher with a scathing look. “Miss Potter, I think you will find that I know more than you think! You boy! Keep your wand out! What if there are more of them around?” she shrieked. “Oh, I’m going to _kill_ Mundungus Fletcher!” 

“What?” Harry said, blankly. He then shared a look with Asher, and raised his brow. Asher merely shrugged with a confused frown on her lips. 

“He left!” said Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands. “Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I’d flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It’s just lucky I put Mr. Tibbies on the case! But we haven’t got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we’ve got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will _kill_ him!” 

Harry thought Mrs. Figgs was insane. Asher found a new respect for the old bird, because who knew she had such a vicious side. There should be classes. 

“You’re a witch? Why was not privy to this information?” Asher demanded, her eyebrows raised up towards her hairline. 

“I’m a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off dementors? He left you completely without cover when I _warned_ him—” Mrs. Figgs ranted, her face pale with rage. “What is that?” She pointed at Magnus who had trotted over to nose to grocery bag with intention interest. She pulled her bag away, and gave the dog a glare. 

“That’s Magnus. He’s mine,” Asher waved off, as if it was no big deal. “Who is Mundungus?” An indention formed on her brow as she frowned heavily. 

“This bloke Mundungus has been following me? Hang on—it was _him!_ He Disapparated from the front of my house!” Harry came to the realization. 

“He was watching us?” Asher’s eyes widened. “Following us?” Well, now she felt in need of a shower. 

“Yes, yes, _yes,_ but luckily I’d stationed Mr. Tibbies under a car just in case, and Mr. Tibbies came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you’d gone—and now—oh, _what’s_ Dumbledore going to say? You!” she shrieked at Dudley, still supine on the alley floor. “Get your fat bottom off the ground, quick!” 

“You know Dumbledore?” Harry and Asher echoed. Magnus cocked his head to the side, before he promptly became disinterest with every and sniffed around for something else he could mark as his territory. 

“Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn’t know Dumbledore? But come _on_ —I’ll be no help if they come back, I’ve never so much as Transfigured a teabag—” She stooped down, seized one of Dudley’s massive arms in her wizened hands, and tugged. “Get _up,_ you useless lump, get _up!_ ” 

“We’ll do it,” Asher said. It would be just one more body to drag if Mrs. Figgs gave herself a heart attack. Harry hoisted Dudley up on his left side, while Asher helped him up from his right. 

“Bloody hell!” Asher bit out. “I thought he was on a diet!” 

“He is,” Harry grunted, pulling one of Dudley’s massive arms around his own shoulders and dragged him toward the road, sagging slightly under his weight. 

Asher did the same on the other side. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she hissed, underneath her breath. Harry snorted, in agreement. Mrs. Figg tottered along in front of them, peering anxiously around the corner. “Magnus!” 

Magnus lifted his head from the fascinating lamppost and happily jogged towards them. He danced around the group for a minute before he settled in pace along side Mrs. Figgs. She smelt like she had food. 

“Keep your wand out,” Mrs. Figgs told Harry after she gave Magnus the evil eye, and they turned Wisteria Walk. “And you should get yours out,” she added, with a look at Asher. 

Asher froze, her blood chilling in her veins. Her wand? She hadn’t even given thought to her wand. She hadn’t had her wand in so long, not since before…her accident. She did not what had happened to it. Did it exist in this timeline? If it did then it was safely tucked away in her room. If not then…it was gone. “I don’t have it,” she said, a flush heating her cheeks. 

Harry shot her a look. It wasn’t like her to not have her wand on hand. In fact, there was something… _different_ about his sister that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was something about the way she held herself, the look in her eye was different than it had been when she had woken up. Her hair seemed longer, and she looked a little bit taller. Almost as tall as him. Even though he had not been the most tallest of people, he didn’t remember his sister being so close to his height. 

“Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there’s going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery…This was _exactly_ what Dumbledore was afraid of— what’s that at the end of the street? Oh, it’s just Mr. Prentice… Don’t put your wand away, boy, don’t I keep telling you I’m no use?” Mrs. Figgs did not have a stop button. Asher had learned that when Harry and her were forced to go to Mrs. Figgs. The endlessly cat pictures, and details of said cats lives…no amount of magic would ever be able to remove it. “That is not for you,” she tapped harshly Magnus on the nose when the dog nipped at the bag. 

Magnus pulled back with a whine. 

“Magnus, behave,” Asher told him, pointedly. 

The effort of holding Dudley up made the burning pain in her arm increase with every movement, and she pinched his arm harshly. However, Dudley seemed to have lost all desire for independent movement. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you’re a Squib?” Harry asked Mrs. Figg, panting with the effort to keep walking. “All those times I came round your house—why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I second that,” Asher added, dryly. 

“Dumbledore’s orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I’m sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they’d thought you enjoyed it. It wasn’t easy, you know…But oh my word,” she said tragically, wringing her hands once more, “when Dumbledore hears about this—how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight— _where is he?_ How am I going to tell Dumbledore what’s happened, I can’t Apparate—” 

Asher was surprised to hear the genuine concern in Mrs. Figgs’s voice. However, the thought that she had known and by extension that Dumbledore had known just how badly the Dursleys treated them…it made her gut twist with anger. How could he left them here then? 

“I’ve got an owl, you can borrow her,” Harry groaned, wondering whether his spine was going to snap under Dudley’s weight. Even with Asher help, Dudley still weighed a ton. 

“Harry, you don’t understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they’ll know already, you mark my words—” Mrs. Figgs wringed her hands together nervously. 

“It was self-defense,” Asher complained. “Surely that calls for some consideration, especially since the Ministry is supposed to _control_ those monsters!” 

“Oh my dear, I wish it were so but I’m afraid—MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” There was a loud crack and a strong smell of mingled drink and stale tobacco filled the air as a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat materialized right in front of them. He had short bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair, and bloodshot baggy eyes that gave him the doleful look of a basset hound. A face that went comical with shock when Magnus let out a vicious growl and leapt on him. 

“Ahhh! Get it off me! Get it off me!” Mundungus shrieked light a little girl as he tried to wiggle free from the dog. Magnus pulled back his jowls to reveal a row of white, sharp teeth and growled. 

“This is our guard?” Asher asked, balefully. Frankly, she was not impressed and when she caught the silvery hewn of an Invisibility Cloak underneath his arm her first thought was that it had better not be her father’s. 

“Figgy! Get it off me!” Mundungus pleaded. 

Mrs. Figg raised an eyebrow, and drew herself up. She opened her purse, and pulled out what appeared to be some sort of cat treat. It made Magnus stop growling, but he didn’t let Mundungus up. 

Asher nodded, and Magnus trotted over happily to Mrs. Figg who gave him the small treat. Mrs. Figg gave the dog a faint smile before she gave Mundungus a smug look. “You deserve worse,” she told him, with a haughty sniff. 

“Don’t be like that Figgy!” he said as he got up off the floor. He glanced from Mrs. Figg to Harry, Asher and Dudley. “What ’appened to staying undercover?” 

“Kind of hard with the dementors all about,” Asher said, sarcastically. 

“Dementors?” repeated Mundungus, aghast. “Dementors here?” 

“Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!” shrieked Mrs. Figg. She looked like she wanted order Magnus to attack him again. “Dementors attacking the twins on your watch!” 

“Blimey,” said Mundungus weakly, looking from Mrs. Figg to the kids and back again. “Blimey, I…” 

If he was going to apologize, Asher almost told him where he could shove his apology. She may not like the idea of having a shadow fall them day and night, but they could have used help back there against the Dementors. If it hadn’t been for Harry and Magnus, then their souls…she didn’t even want to go there. 

“And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn’t I tell you not to go? _Didn’t I?_ ” Mrs. Figgs demanded, and for an old lady that barely raked over five feet tall she was as intimidating as a dragon. 

“I—well, I—” Mundungus looked deeply uncomfortable. “It…it was a very good business opportunity, see…” 

“Ah, yes, business opportunities. I see,” Asher nodded her head, magnanimously with a patronizing smile. “That just makes everything okay, doesn’t it?” 

Mundungus sputtered out some kind of reply, but it turned into an indignant sqwack when Mrs. Figgs nailed him with her string bag right across his face. Judgning by the clanking noises of can, it was full of cat food. “Ouch—gerroff—gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone’s gotta tell Dumbledore!” 

Magnus danced around, excitedly. He wanted to play, but Asher clucked her tongue at him. He bent his head with disappointment. 

“Yes—they—have!” yelled Mrs. Figg, still swinging the bag of cat food at every bit of Mundungus she could reach. “And—it—had—better—be—you—and—you—can—tell—him—why—you—weren’t—there—to—help!” 

“Keep your ’airnet on!” said Mundungus, his arms over his head, cowering. “I’m going, I’m going!” 

And with another loud crack, he vanished. 

“I hope Dumbledore _murders_ him!” said Mrs. Figg furiously. “Now come on, Harry, Asher, what are you waiting for?” 

“Christmas?” Asher supplied, innocently. 

Harry snorted on a laugh. He had always know of Asher’s mischievous side though only few others got to see it like the Weasley twins. Most of the time, however Asher was more reserved and quiet around everyone else. He didn’t know whether to be proud or scared by this new found confidence. 

“I’ll take you to the door,” said Mrs. Figg, as they turned into Privet Drive. “Just in case there are more of them around…Oh my word, what a catastrophe…and you had to fight them off yourselves…” 

“Harry fought them off,” Asher corrected. “Tell her, Harry. About the Patronus…and stuff…” She saw Number Four in her sights, and almost cried with relief. Wow, she never thought she’d ever _think_ that. 

“I fought them off,” Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah…I just stood there, and looked pretty. You know how…hard that is to pull off when you are terrified?” She gritted her teeth, the words the only thing that was keeping her passing out. The adrenaline had long fled from her blood leaving her a heap of exhaustion. 

“Now is not the time to make jokes, young lady! Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs!” Mrs. Figgs snapped. 

“A bit late for that,” Harry stated, dryly. “Dumbledore’s… been having…us followed?” 

“Of course he has,” said Mrs. Figg impatiently. “Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent…Right, get inside and stay there,” she said as they reached number four. “I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough.” 

“What are you going to do?” asked Harry quickly. 

“I’m going straight home,” said Mrs. Figg, staring around the dark street and shuddering. “I’ll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Good night.” 

“Hang on, don’t go yet! I want to know—” 

But Mrs. Figg had already set off at a trot, carpet slippers flopping, string bag clanking. 

“Wait!” Harry shouted after her; he had a million questions to ask anyone who was in contact with Dumbledore; but within seconds Mrs. Figg was swallowed by the darkness. Magnus whined, but was better when Asher gave him a brief pat on the head. 

“Well,” Asher said, blankly. “That was a font of nothing.” 

“You think?” Scowling, Harry readjusted Dudley on his shoulder and twins made their way slowly up number four’s garden path. 

“Wand,” Asher warned. 

Harry inclined his head, and stuck his wand back inside the waistband of his jeans, rang the bell, and watched Aunt Petunia’s outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the rippling glass in the front door. 

“Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite—quite— _Diddy, what’s the matter?_ ” Petunia nearly screeched. 

Asher looked at Dudley and saw the green hue to his face. She shared a look with Harry and the both of them ducked out from under his arms just in time. Dudley vomited all over the doormat. 

“Ew…” Asher pressed her fingers to her nose to fight off the smell. It didn’t work, and she gagged, taking a few steps back with Harry at her side. 

“DIDDY! Diddy, what’s the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!” Their uncle came galumphing out of the living room, walrus mustache blowing hither and thither as it always did when he was agitated. He hurried forward to help Aunt Petunia negotiate a weak-kneed Dudley over the threshold while avoiding stepping in the pool of sick. 

“He’s ill, Vernon!” 

“What is it, son? What’s happened? Did Mrs. Polkiss give you something foreign for tea?” 

“Why are you all covered in dirt, darling? Have you been lying on the ground?” 

“Hang on—you haven’t been mugged, have you, son?” 

Asher raised an eyebrow at Harry, and he simply nodded. While the Dursley’s were having a mini meltdown, the twins slipped inside just before Vernon slammed the door shut and made their progress towards the stairs. If they were lucky, Asher thought, they would get up the stairs before it all got worse. Magnus followed behind them, crouching slightly to the ground as if to also sneak by. 

“Who did it, son? Give us names. We’ll get them, don’t worry.” 

“Shh! He’s trying to say something, Vernon! What is it, Diddy? Tell Mummy!” 

They made it three stairs before Dudley whispered, _“Him.”_

All the air gushed out of her lungs, and she looked at Harry horrified. Harry had gone stock still, and his face screwed up into a grimace. They both knew that an explosion would soon followed, and it did. 

“BOY! COME HERE!” 

Magnus’s ears went flat against his skull, and he let out a low growl. Asher rubbed the fur on his neck, in an attempt to soothe the warhound, but her own anxiety showed. She followed Harry, because she knew how bad their uncle’s anger could get. She had no intention of letting him touch one hair on Harry’s head, and if tried, she would let Magnus have at him. The scrupulously clean kitchen had an oddly unreal glitter after the darkness outside. Aunt Petunia was ushering Dudley into a chair; he was still very green and clammy looking. Uncle Vernon was standing in front of the draining board, glaring at Harry through tiny, narrowed eyes then he looked at Asher, and paled upon seeing Magnus. 

“What in blue blazing is that thing?” He pointed a finger at the menacing looking dog. Magnus did not seem to like Vernon one bit, and Asher did not blame him in the slightest. 

Holding onto Magnus’s collar, she raised a lofty brow. “He’s my backup,” she retorted, with a hint of a cold smile on her face. There memories were piling up, and she had no love for the Dursleys. 

  
[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152592576@N08/1X406Z)  


“Get him out of here!” Vernon demanded, hotly. 

“I think not,” Asher countered. “If you wish for him to leave you are welcome to try and make him, but I don’t think you’ll get very far. And not without losing a few limbs,” she added, while Magnus let out a deep bark. 

Vernon flinched back, and Petunia looked faint. Shaking his head, Vernon turned his outrage on Harry. “What have you done to my son?” He demanded, his voice a near shout. 

“Nothing,” said Harry, knowing perfectly well that Uncle Vernon wouldn’t believe him. 

“What did he do to you, Diddy?” Aunt Petunia said in a quavering voice, now sponging sick from the front of Dudley’s leather jacket. “Was it—was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use—his _thing_?” 

“His thing? Really?” Asher asked, baldly. 

Slowly, tremulously, Dudley nodded. 

“I didn’t!” Harry said sharply, as Aunt Petunia let out a wail and Uncle Vernon raised his fists. 

Magnus lunged to put himself in between Harry and Vernon, his teeth bared in warning. “He didn’t do anything! He saved Dudley’s life!” Asher snapped, her fingers going numb with the effort to hold Magnus back from attacking. It was almost tempting to let him go, and if she had been a lesser person, she would have. 

There was a brief moment of silence, where Petunia’s mouth dropped open and Vernon resembled a balloon being deflated. But before anyone could say anything else, a screeching owl swooped into through the kitchen window. Narrowly missing the top of Uncle Vernon’s head, it soared across the kitchen, dropped the large parchment envelope it was carrying in its beak at Harry’s feet, and turned gracefully, the tips of its wings just brushing the top of the fridge, then zoomed outside again and off across the garden. 

“OWLS!” bellowed Uncle Vernon, the well-worn vein in his temple pulsing angrily. “OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN MY HOUSE!” 

“Then close the window!” Asher shouted back. She knelt down to place a hand against Magnus’s chest and rubbed circles there. The dog was a warhound, trained to fight and that wasn’t something Asher could forget. Magnus would only answer to her, but he did have a mind of his own. He might just decide it was worth attacking Vernon, or try to eat owl if another one came swooping by. “Who has a kitchen window open at this time of night anyways? With air conditioning running?” 

Vernon sputtered, angrily. 

“Asher,” Harry said, numbly. 

She turned to look at him, and saw the letter in his hand. The Ministry seal down at the bottom. “What’s it say?” She asked, though a part of her already knew. 

“They are going to destroy our wands,” Harry said, and the Dursleys flinched at the term. Petunia went as far as to cover Dudley’s ears when he whimpered. 

“That’s not right. They can’t destroy our wands, not before the hearing. Confiscate it, yes, but not destroy. It’s a breach of protocol,” Asher stated, primly. Then she blinked rapidly. “Where did _that_ come from?” An echo of one of her half lives? She hoped not because that meant the Doctor’s concerns were valid and if those parts of her…well, parts of _them_ came flooding through then Asher wasn’t sure what she would do. She wasn’t sure if she knew any way of stopping it. She shook her head, right now was not the time to think on that. 

Harry read the letter through twice. Inside his head, all was icy and numb. One fact had penetrated his consciousness like a paralyzing dart. He was expelled from Hogwarts. It was all over. He was never going back. “Harry,” Asher put her hand on his arm drawing his attention. His eyes were wide and his face taunt and pale. “Do not panic. They cannot do this. I will not allow them.” 

“And how do you plan on stopping them?” Harry croaked out. Magnus nudged his knee, and Harry automatically started to pet the animal. 

“I’m clever. I’ll think of something,” Asher stated, firmly. Though inwardly she was not as confident. She did not think the Ministry would listen to reason, even though an oversight such as this was a glaring one. If she had to, she supposed they would run for it. If the Ministry was half as incompetent as this letter led her to believe then taking them down should be a breeze. 

“Wh-what do you mean by saved?” Vernon asked, while Petunia rubbed circles on Dudley’s back as he vomited into the trashcan. 

“It means that Dudley would be worse than dead if Harry hadn’t stop the Dementors, that’s what it means,” Asher gave him a hateful glance. “Now if you don’t mind, my brother and I have to deal with the fallout—” 

A resounding _CRACK_ filled the kitchen; Aunt Petunia screamed, Uncle Vernon yelled and ducked, but for the third time that night. Asher stared blankly at the ruffled looking barn owl that was sitting outside on the kitchen sill, having just collided with the now closed window. Magnus yipped, thinking that the feathery thing was a chew toy. 

Ignoring Uncle Vernon’s anguished yell of “OWLS!” Harry crossed the room at a run and wrenched the window open again. The owl stuck out its leg, to which a small roll of parchment was tied, shook its feathers, and took off the moment Harry had pulled off the letter. Asher peered over his shoulder at the hastily written message. 

_Harry, Asher—_

_Dumbledore’s just arrived at the Ministry, and he’s trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE’S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND._

“A message that just leaves us with more questions than answers. How _lovely_ ,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “In the dark once again, and it feels like we are being led by the blind.” 

Asher knew Dumbledore would try, but did he had the power to override the Ministry of Magic? Her fate with Hogwarts had already been up in the air, so the fear was nothing new to her. However, she could see Harry was in a state of severe shock. She could feel the thoughts races in his head, and she reached out putting her hand into his, giving a comforting squeeze. 

“Sit,” she ordered, quietly. 

Normally, Harry would have argued, but he didn’t quite have it in him at that moment. He flung himself down at the kitchen table and faced Dudley and Aunt Petunia. “Who are all these ruddy owls from?” Vernon growled, his face purple. 

“The first one was from the Ministry of Magic, expelling Asher and I,” said Harry calmly, more calmly than he felt. He saw Asher peeking out the window to spy any Ministry representatives approaching. “The second one was from my friend Ron’s dad, he works at the Ministry.” 

_“Ministry of Magic?_ ” bellowed Uncle Vernon. “People like you in _government_? Oh this explains everything, everything, no wonder the country’s going to the dogs…” When neither of the twins responded, Uncle Vernon glared at the both of them, then spat, “And why have you been expelled?” 

“Saving Dudley,” Asher stated, nonchalantly. “Did you not hear what I said earlier or are you being intentionally obtuse?” 

“Now, you listen here…” Vernon took a threatening step forward only to be halted by the growls from Magnus. There was nothing remotely endearing about the way the dog in that moment, and Vernon swallowed nervously. 

“Dementors?” Petunia said, with a shaken look on her face. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? That H-harry saved my Dudley from Dementors? They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban.” Two seconds’ ringing silence followed these words and then Aunt Petunia clapped her hand over her mouth as though she had let slip a disgusting swear word. 

Asher goggled at her aunt with blatant shock, a look that was mirrored on Harry’s face. “How d’you know that?” Harry asked her, astonished. 

Aunt Petunia looked quite appalled with herself. She glanced at Uncle Vernon in fearful apology, then lowered her hand slightly to reveal her horsey teeth. “I heard—that awful boy—telling _her_ about them years ago,” she said jerkily. 

Asher felt a pain surge through her chest. “You never speak of mom,” she said, tonelessly. She didn’t know which revelation shocked her more. Petunia’s knowledge of the wizard world or that she remembered something about Lily. In all her years, Asher had never heard Petunia utter one word about their mother, except one time where she called their mom a freak. 

“Why don’t you use our mom and dad’s names?” said Harry loudly, but Aunt Petunia ignored him. She seemed horribly flustered. 

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth, closed it again, opened it once more, shut it, then, apparently struggling to remember how to talk, opened it for a third time and croaked, “So—so—they— er—they—er—they actually exist, do they—er—dementy-whatsits?” 

Aunt Petunia nodded. 

Uncle Vernon looked as if someone had told him up was down, Christmas was canceled, and the drilling business had went bust all in one evening. He opened his mouth yet again, but was spared the struggle to find more words by the arrival of the third owl of the evening, which zoomed through the still-open window like a feathery cannonball and landed with a clatter on the kitchen table, causing Asher to jump in shock. She took the letter this time, a second official-looking envelope from the owl’s beak. 

Without preamble, she ripped it open while Vernon went on another rant about owls. 

_Dear Mr. and Ms. Potter,_

_Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wands until your disciplinary hearing on 12th August, at which time an official decision will be taken. Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further inquiries._

_With best wishes,_

_Yours sincerely,_

Improper Use of Magic Office 

_Ministry of Magic_

Asher read the letter silently, and she looked up at Harry who sat there in the seat so still that he looked like a statue. “We aren’t losing our wands, and we are suspended not expelled. At least, until this hearing business is dealt with,” she informed, and handed over the letter for him to read himself. 

Harry read this letter through three times in quick succession. The miserable knot in his chest loosened slightly at the thought that they were not definitely expelled, though his fears were by no means banished. The hearing on the twelfth of August was like another dark cloud that would hang over his head, adding to the storm already there. “Well, if that’s all,” said Harry, getting to his feet. “Asher and I will be-” 

“NO, IT RUDDY WELL IS NOT ALL!” bellowed Uncle Vernon. “SIT BACK DOWN!” 

“What _now_?” said Harry impatiently. 

“DUDLEY!” roared Uncle Vernon. “I want to know exactly what happened to my son!” 

Magnus eyed their overweight uncle as if he were debating what part to chew off first. “Fine,” Asher said, her voice resigned. She ran her down the back of Magnus’s spine. If she hadn’t spoken up, Harry would have exploded. “What is it about the situation that escapes you?” She demanded, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Everything!” Vernon snapped. 

Asher bit her lip hard, and merely looked at Harry for help. He managed to grasp her struggle, and after a calming breath took over. “Dudley and I were in the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk,” said Harry, speaking fast, wanting this over as soon as possible. “Dudley thought he’d be smart with me, I pulled out my wand but didn’t use it. Then two dementors turned up—” 

“But what ARE dementoids?” asked Uncle Vernon furiously. “What do they DO?” 

“They such the happiness out of you. All the warmth, all the good thoughts, they drain it out of you like a leech does with blood,” Asher stated, watching Petunia’s and Vernon’s face turn ashen. “That is hardly the worse thing. If they kiss you—” 

“Kiss you?” said Uncle Vernon, his eyes popping slightly. “ _Kiss_ you?” 

“It’s what they call it when they suck the soul out of your mouth,” Harry said, shortly. 

Aunt Petunia uttered a soft scream. 

“His _soul_? They didn’t take—he’s still got his—” She seized Dudley by the shoulders and shook him, as though testing to see whether she could hear his soul rattling around inside him. 

“Harry _saved_ him before that could happen,” Asher spoke, her voice deceptively quiet. She was getting tired of all this, and she could tell what little patient her dog had was nearly up. 

_WHOOSH._ With a clattering, a whirring of wings, and a soft fall of dust, a fourth owl came shooting out of the kitchen fireplace. “Okay! Now I am even having a problem with these owls,” Asher declared, her expression one of discontent. “Does none of them know what a phone is? Has no one taken Muggle Studies and learned how to use one?” 

“Apparently not,” Harry said, dryly. He took the parchment from the owl’s leg, and unrolled it. He hoped it was from Dumbledore explaining this entire mess. Ignoring Uncle Vernon’s ongoing rant about owls with Asher adding a word here or there that only severed to make him more furious, he saw Sirius’s handwriting. At first, he was pleasantly surprised until he noted it was only two lines long. 

_Arthur’s just told us what’s happened._

_Don’t leave the house again, whatever you do._

Harry found this such an inadequate response to everything that had happened tonight that he turned the piece of parchment over, looking for the rest of the letter. Asher noted the change in his expression. “Who is it from?” She inquired. 

“Sirius,” Harry said, flatly. “Two sentences long.” 

“A new record,” Asher said, with mock appreciation. “Considering his recent letters.” 

Harry gave a dry snort while desperately reigning in his temper before he exploded. No answers. No explanations. No one even saying that they were glad that were alive. Instead, Asher and he were being treated as if they were at fault somehow. 

“—a peck, I mean, pack of owls shooting in and out of my house and I won’t have it, boy, I won’t—” 

“I can’t stop the owls coming,” Harry snapped, crushing Sirius’s letter in his fist. 

“I want the truth about what happened tonight!” barked Uncle Vernon. “If it was demenders who hurt Dudley, how come you’ve been expelled? You did you-know-what, you’ve admitted it!” 

“We’ve already told you. Harry used magic to fend off the dementors,” Asher stated, with a deep steadying breath. Her head was hurting badly. Worse than it had in the previous weeks. She was putting strain on herself, and she didn’t think she was going to last longer. “We can’t use magic to outside of school. That’s why we got in trouble…for _helping_. You need to reign your hero complex,” she told her brother, flatly. 

“I’ll get right on that, Asher,” Harry retorted, sarcastically. 

“But what were dementoids _doing_ in Little Whinging?” said Uncle Vernon in tones of outrage. 

“Couldn’t tell you,” said Harry wearily. “No idea.” 

There was a beat. 

“It’s you. The pair of you,” said Uncle Vernon forcefully. “It’s got something to do with you two, I know it. Why else would they turn up here? Why else would they be down that alleyway? You’ve got to be the only—the only—” Evidently he couldn’t bring himself to say the word “wizard” or “witch”. “The only _you-know-what_ for miles.” 

Asher stilled. Why _had_ the dementors come to Little Whinging? How _could_ it be coincidence that they had arrived in the alleyway where Harry was? Had they been sent? In the hazy aftermath of the fight, she hadn’t even thought of it until Vernon brought it. Now, she just felt stupid. 

“These demembers guard some weirdos’ prison?” said Uncle Vernon, towering over the pair of them. 

“Yes,” said Harry. 

Asher rubbed her a spot on her forehead that felt too tight and the center of all her pain. If only her head would stop frickin’ hurting than she could actually _think_. 

“Oho! They were coming to arrest you!” said Uncle Vernon, with the triumphant air of a man reaching an unassailable conclusion. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re both on the run from the law!” 

“Yes, that’s why we’ve been here the whole summer,” Asher stated, dryly. “Do you think if really were running that we would have stayed here?” 

“He must have sent them,” said Harry quietly, his eyes darted over to Asher. His green eyes flickered towards her arm, and eyebrows crawled towards his hairline when he saw the charred sleeve. How the heck did that happen? 

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Asher admitted, after a moment. Dumbledore had said there was a great chance that the dementors would return to Voldemort’s side, and it seemed like they had. 

“What’s that? Who must have sent them?” Petunia asked. 

“Lord Voldemort,” said Harry. 

Asher was so used to someone flinching, or squawking when they heard “Voldemort” that she momentarily found it strange that the Dursleys just looked at them blankly. 

“Lord—hang on,” said Uncle Vernon, his face screwed up, a look of dawning comprehension in his piggy eyes. “I’ve heard that name…that was the one who…” 

“Murdered our parents, yes,” Harry supplied, knowing if they let Vernon try to work it out on his own that they would be here all night. 

“But he’s gone,” said Uncle Vernon impatiently. The lack of reaction to the topic of their parents’ murder was heart warming. Truly. “That giant bloke said so. He’s gone.” 

“He’s back,” said Harry heavily. 

Asher ran her fingers across the bottom her chin, thoughtfully. There always had been a separation between the magic world and the non-magical world. An invisible wall of sorts that now felt like it had been knocked down without so much as a sound with the dementors arrival in Privet Drive. The Dursleys were talking about magic, then Mrs. Figgs knew Dumbledore and was a closet maniac. Who had known she even knew what flaying was let alone capable of threatening someone with it? 

“Back?” whispered Aunt Petunia. She was looking at the twin as she had never looked at him before. In was in that moment, Asher realized that Petunia was their mother’s sister. She had never appreciated that until now because their aunt knew the true impact of what Voldemort being back really meant. 

Petunia’s face was ashen, her eyes wide and fearful. The furious pretense that Aunt Petunia had maintained all the twins’ lives seemed to have fallen away and Asher got a glimpse of a wound that most likely never healed. 

“Yes,” Harry said, talking directly to Aunt Petunia now. “He came back a month ago. I saw him.” 

Her hands found Dudley’s massive leather-clad shoulders and clutched them. Asher bowed her hand, because that was a moment Harry faced alone. A part of her would never forgive Dumbledore for using Harry as bait and let him continue in the Triwizard Tournament. 

“Hang on,” said Uncle Vernon, looking from his wife to Harry to Asher and back again, apparently dazed and confused by the unprecedented understanding that seemed to have sprung up between them. “Hang on. This Lord Voldything’s back, you say.” 

Asher almost smiled at the mispronunciation of Voldemort’s name. Almost. “Yes, he is back,” she stated, her voice filled with exhaustion. 

“The one who murdered your parents.” 

“Yes,” Harry and Asher said. Honestly, it was easier to talk to a rock. 

“And now he’s sending dismembers after you?” 

“Looks like it,” said Harry. 

“I see,” said Uncle Vernon, he drew in a long breath. “Well, that settles it,” he said, his shirt front straining as he inflated himself, “ _you can get out of this house! Both of you!”_

“What?” Asher blinked. 

“You heard me—OUT!” Uncle Vernon bellowed, and even Aunt Petunia and Dudley jumped. “OUT! OUT! I should’ve done it years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home, puddings exploding, half the lounge destroyed, Dudley’s tail, Marge bobbing around on the ceiling, and that flying Ford Anglia—OUT! OUT! You’ve had it! You’re history! You’re not staying here if some loony’s after you, you’re not endangering my wife and son, you’re not bringing trouble down—” 

_“Enough,”_ Asher’s voice was artic and deadly. It even chilled Harry down to his bones, and he looked at his sister in shock. This person right here had resembled nothing of his soft spoken sister with her lips drawl back into a snarl. “You think that you will be safe with us gone? Voldemort hates _everyone,_ but he hates those without magic most of all. It won’t matter if we are under this roof or not, he will come for you simply because of what you are. _Normal, ordinary people._ And you know the best way to stop him?” 

Vernon was purple with rage, but silent. 

“Him,” she pointed to Harry who was rooted to the spot. “He is the only thing standing between Voldemort and your world. The safest place for him is here, but if you want us gone that badly…fine, we will go. Just know that you are endangering the one thing that can keep your world spinning.” Was she in a sense blackmailing Vernon? Yes, she supposed she was. Did she honestly care? No, she didn’t. “If you still want us out, you are of course welcome to try, but you’ll have to get past Magnus to do it.” 

Vernon’s bluster and rage faltered quickly at the snarling animal who stood taunt and ready for the challenge. Their uncle went very pale, and before anyone else could speak up a fifth owl zoomed down the chimney so fast it actually hit the floor before zooming into the air again with a loud screech. The bird flew towards Petunia who screamed and ducked, letting the letter fall from her head. 

Asher took in the scarlet letter with a look on her face like Christmas had came earlier. Aunt Petunia got a howler. “Oh, I hope it’s from Mrs. Weasley,” she said, before she could help herself. 

“If only,” Harry fought a smile. 

“Let go of it, Petunia!” roared Uncle Vernon when Petunia picked it up. “Don’t touch it, it could be dangerous!” 

“It’s addressed to me,” said Aunt Petunia in a shaking voice. “It’s addressed to _me,_ Vernon, look! _Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Kitchen, Number Four, Privet Drive_ —” She caught her breath, horrified. The red envelope had begun to smoke. 

Harry and Asher shared a look before they both covered Magnus’s ears, and waited for the show to begin. Aunt Petunia’s hand was trembling. She looked wildly around the kitchen as though looking for an escape route, but too late—the envelope burst into flames. Aunt Petunia screamed and dropped it. 

An awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing in the confined space, issuing from the burning letter on the table. 

_“REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA.”_

Aunt Petunia looked as though she might faint. She sank into the chair beside Dudley, her face in her hands. The remains of the envelope smoldered into ash in the silence. 

“Oooh,” Asher intrigued. “How ominous.” 

“Remember my last?” Harry blinked. “What does that mean?” Magnus looked up a the twins, his tail wagging. He had no idea what was going on, but he liked that no one was yelling anymore. 

“What is this?” Uncle Vernon said hoarsely. “What—I don’t—Petunia?” 

Aunt Petunia said nothing. Dudley was staring stupidly at his mother, his mouth hanging open. The silence spiraled horribly. Finally, she raised her head. She was still trembling. She swallowed. “They will—they will have to stay, Vernon,” she said weakly. 

“W-what?” 

“They stay,” she said. She was not looking at Harry nor Asher. She got to her feet again. 

“He…but Petunia…” 

“If we throw them out, the neighbors will talk,” she said. She was regaining her usual brisk, snappish manner rapidly, though she was still very pale. “They’ll ask awkward questions, they’ll want to know where they have gone. We’ll have to keep them.” 

“How pragmatic of you,” Asher couldn’t help herself. 

“That is enough out of you,” Petunia gave her a glare. “And if you think that we won’t be discussing that mutt then you have another thing coming.” 

Asher glowered, while Magnus tilted his head slightly. 

“But Petunia, dear—” Vernon deflated like an old tire. 

Aunt Petunia ignored him. “You two are to stay in your room,” she said. “You’re not to leave the house. Now get to bed.” 

Harry didn’t move. Neither did Asher. She was still curious over the message because it implied that Petunia had been contacted by some in the wizarding world before. But who? And why? Dumbledore perhaps? It made the most sense, but that still did not explain the message. 

“Who was that Howler from?” Harry asked. 

“Don’t ask questions,” Aunt Petunia snapped. 

“Are you in touch with wizards?” 

“I told you to get to bed!” 

“How come—?” 

“YOU HEARD YOUR AUNT, NOW GET TO BED!” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explaination: Before anyone asks why Harry couldn’t go with the Doctor, Harry didn’t exist. The crack in the wall, if you know your DW, pulled unsuspecting people in and erased their entire existence. It was like Harry was never even born. Now, after the Doctor stopped that, the timeline reset. Everything went back to the way it was. In the mind of the wizarding world and Privet Drive, it is as if Asher had never left with the Doctor. It’s as if Asher has been there the whole time, and no one is none the wiser. As for what happened to Asher during her travels with the Doctor, that will be revealed as the story goes.  
> Also the reason this isn’t in the crossover section is because the majority of it will happen in the HP universe with cameos from the Doctor Who cast.
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> 1.) “Who You Are” by Jessie J
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> 2.) “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten
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> 3.) “Take It Out On Me” by Thousand Foot Krutch
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> 4.) “My Demons” by Starset
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> 5.) “Be Somebody” by Thousand Foot Krutch
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> 6.) “You’re Safe” by Rachel Platten
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> 7.) “Fallen (Lectro Dub)” by the Aviators
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> 8.) “Open Your Eyes” by the Aviators
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> 9.) “Ready, Aim, Fire” by Imagine Dragons
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> 10.) “Falling In the Black” by Skillet


	2. Never the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who likes this story, and hope that you will continue to enjoy.
> 
>  
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> Chapter Inspired by the following songs:
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> “How Soon is Now” by The Smiths
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> “The Quiet One” by the Who

CHAPTER TWO 

‘Never the Same’

* * *

THEN

“They aren’t even going to know, are they?” 

Asher walked around the TARDIS console, the beeps and whirls comforting sounds compared the nothingness that she had endured for…who knows how long. “Will they know that I was gone? That I was missing at all?” She inquired, her voice suspicious light. Outwardly she did not show the torrent of emotions that’s she was going through inside, she appeared calmed if a little detached. Her fingers delicately ran across the buttons and lights, and she felt a slight hum. It was the TARDIS trying soothe her in it’s own way. 

“No,” the Doctor told her, with a small shake of his head. “The timeline in which you came with Amy, Rory and I is independent from the timeline that exists now. This is the one that should have existed all along and would have if those cracks had not appeared.” 

“How come I still remember both lives then?” Asher shot him a perplexed look. Her brows were knotted and her head tilted to the side like a curious cat. 

“You’re a time traveler,” the Doctor stated, as if that should explain everything. “Your perception on the world around you has been forever shifted, and that’s it why your mind still remembers both timelines.” 

She tapped her fingers against the railing of the stairs, before she collapsed down to sit upon the bottom step. Wrapping her arms around her midsection, she looked up at the Doctor with a question in her eyes. “So if the crack never appeared in the wall…I would never have met you?” She asked, hesitantly. 

The Doctor paused. His face blank, but the thoughts in his eyes were a million. “No, you wouldn’t have,” he stated, simply. 

Asher stared at him for a long silent moment. “I don’t regret it. Sneaking on the TARDIS, coming along with you and all that happened afterwards. When the crack in the wall…when it took the Dursleys and Harry away, I remember nothing other than being alone. Then you lot appeared with your blue box, and suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore. If I had one regret, it was that Harry…couldn’t come with us,” she stated, a slight hitch in her voice and she looked down at the floor. “If I hadn’t been so scared, I would have never asked him to look at the wall. He would have never…” 

“You were a child looking up to your big brother,” Clara commented, a sympathetic look in her doe brown eyes. “You were afraid, and you didn’t know any better. There was no way you could have known that it would make Harry disappear. You can’t blame yourself for things that were out of your control.” 

“I suppose…” Asher sighed, heavily. “I just wished Harry could have been here. I traveled across worlds; from the ruins of Earth to the black core of the universe to the brightest star and I wish he could have seen those things, too. And yet at the same time, I’m glad that I was on my own. I think I needed that. To be a stronger person, to be a better me. To be the sister I know that Harry deserves.” 

“You have always been a strong person, Asher,” the Doctor shot her a look out of the corner of his eyes as he scanned the console with his sonic screwdriver. “You just didn’t know it then.” 

Asher wasn’t so sure of that, but she let it go. Tunneling her fingers through her hair, she cocked up an eyebrow at the Doctor. “Weren’t you…going to explain about these half lives you said I am experiencing?” She posed the question to get them all back on track because they had veered way off topic. “What exactly is a half life?” 

“Half lives are just _that,_ half lives. A single shade of a human’s soul, with no true way of being complete on it’s own. Like an undone puzzle has no way of seeing the full picture until it’s done, the pieces of you could not be counted as full lives or be an entire being on their own. So…they latched onto other lives through the veil of time, like a parasite if you will,” the Doctor walked about, his eyes focused on the console as he made adjustments and such. 

Asher gave him a dry look. 

“Not the comparison I think she was looking for, Doctor,” Clara stated, with a wince on her face. 

“It’s true nonetheless. Your puzzle pieces latched onto lives, other people’s lives. You siphoned life energy off of them, living vicariously through them when you couldn’t live for yourself. Your desires latched onto someone with similar desires. Your good side parts latched onto someone with a similar good in them. Your bad side…well, you get the gist of it all,” the Doctor waves his hand, while he frowned heavily down at the console. He went about making repairs, and adjustments. 

“I still don’t get it,” Asher shook her head. “Why would that even happen? Why would my… _puzzle pieces_ latch onto other people’s lives?” 

“You cannot guess?” The Doctor looked at her. “To survive, to live…to exist, even if only for one fleeting moment. Even if it was through someone else.” 

Asher felt her heart sink inside of her chest. “So…I was a ghostly Peeping Tom?” She wrinkled her nose. That was a disturbing thought. Just exactly how much of these people lives did she see? What kind of moments did see… _experience_ with them? 

Clara choked on laughter while the Doctor sighed, heavily. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes,” the alien told her, with a incline of his head. “Essentially that is it, but it isn’t as simple as staring in on someone. By becoming a part of them, they have become a part of you.” 

Asher felt a cold sensation dripped down her spine, and she now studied the Doctor with more keen eyes than before. There was something about his stance, the way he moved that bespoken of agitation. The only time the Doctor got agitated when he was truly worried about something, and Asher swallowed thickly. “What is that supposed to mean?” She asked, her voice strange to her own ears. 

“Have you ever heard of Frederich Nietzsche? When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you,” the Doctor said, his voice very serious and a touch of grimness there on his face that left Asher with a cold feeling inside. “You created a bond with them; the good ones, the bad ones, and so much more. All those memories, all those personalities fluttering around your psyche like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.” 

Asher sat there for a long moment, stock still before she gave what she felt was an appropriate response. 

“Well, shit.” 

* * *

NOW

Asher braced herself on the bathroom sink. 

The mirror stared back at her, silently. It reflected her all that she didn’t want to see. Her face hadn’t changed much, but she could still see the telltale signs of maturity. The baby fat that had rounded her face had turned into smooth plains, her lips fuller, and her eyes were not the eyes of a fifteen year old. Physically, she was now in her earlier twenties though mentally she had been alive for much, much longer. A cold, hard knot sat there in her stomach the longer she stared into the looking glass and a sweat broke out along her neck. She might be able to dress the part of the teenager, using the right clothes to make her look as such. 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/tumblr_ls0nibxfbv1qihixio4_250_zps1nj6drd6.gif.html)

She could lie. If she wanted to. She already was, but the weight of it was already crushing her. She couldn’t walk around Hogwarts and pretend that she was that fifteen year old girl. There had to be another way. She knew she couldn’t tell the whole truth to everyone, at least not right away. But perhaps…perhaps she could go to Dumbledore. Despite the animosity she still felt towards him for what he did last year, Asher did not know who else to confide into nor anyone else that could help her come up with some kind of solution. The future she had here was more uncertain than the one if she stayed with the Doctor. That was not exactly an encouraging thought. 

Running her hand down her neck, she glanced at the shut door, and let out a sigh. She knew that Harry wasn’t blind to the fact that she was different. The way she acted after the Dementor attack, and with the Dursleys was not like the milquetoast girl she had been. Asher had been the peace keeper, the negotiator and her best assets was her tact. To keep her real feelings to herself because she didn’t want a fuss or to argue. However, keeping peace was not always an option. 

She felt the beat of the oncoming war like a fire in her veins. The threat of Voldemort loomed over them like a disease or plague, and there would not be peace. There would be moments where it came down to their lives versus the Death Eaters, and Asher chose them. She would make sure that would get out of this alive, no matter what the cost may be. 

Asher swallowed harshly. She ran her fingers through her shortened hair, that fell just below her jaw line. Her hair had been long already, but there had been no way explaining the five extra inches it had grown. Magic might have been an excuse, but she rather not have to lie more than was needed. Her fingertips twitched, and pain flared up her arm causing her to hiss. Her gaze flickered down towards her bandaged arm. 

The skin had been cracked, and charred as a result of her spell. She knew that something had been wrong with her magic since being put back together, and she wondered if this was some kind of price she had to pay. Would her magic be this way from now on? Or as she gradually got better would her magic heal? She grimaced, and headed back to the room she shared with her brother. Vernon and Petunia hadn’t locked the bedroom door in a very long time, but after tonight’s events, she wouldn’t put it past them to try. She moved quietly across the floor, and she pulled open the door. Harry was hunched over his desk writing furiously on the three pieces of parchment while Magnus had taken over her bed, lying on his back and snoring while his left back leg twitched. She shut the door, and Harry looked up, blinking. “You cut your hair,” he noted. 

“Nothing gets past you,” Asher told him, in a humoring tone as she sat on the edge of her bed. Magnus barely opened his eyes to give her a quick look before he quickly fell back to sleep. She eyed him with a fond exasperation, and hoped he didn’t drool on her pillow. 

“What happened to you arm?” Harry asked, it had been bothering him since he had seen it. Usually when injured the twins relied upon one another yet Asher made no murmur or mention of her arm. For some reason, this unsettled him greatly. 

“I got hurt. What are you doing?” She inquired, rolling the tension out of her shoulders while she neatly avoided the question. 

“Writing to Sirius, Ron, and Hermione. I want answers, and it’s about time we got some,” Harry stated, his voice tight with frustration. His shoulders were hunched as he sat with the quill in hand, and finished the letters before he sat back in the broken chair. The only reason it was standing up was a bunch of magazines stuffed underneath the missing leg, and it being broken was the only reason that they got to have it to being with. But the twins always managed. Any broken items of Dudley’s, they would take and fix. It was a bit sad, but it passed the time in this house when they ran out of homework. 

“I agree,” Asher inclined her head. “But getting frustrated about it is not going to help anyone. Least of all you.” 

“We’ve tried asking them, Asher. It’s been radio silence ever since,” Harry scowled. “I just want to know what’s going. What Voldemort is up to, and what’s he planning. Can’t they understand that?” 

“I know. It makes me angry too,” she stated, diplomatically. “I don’t think they are doing it be cruel. They think they are doing what’s best for us.” 

“What’s best for us? Not knowing what’s going on? Always wondering what is happening? If we are in danger or not?” Harry practically spat, his hands clenched into fists. 

“I never said that it was smart,” Asher chuckled, lightly. “But their intentions are good. Doesn’t mean we don’t need some kind of answer, and honestly it better be a good one after the whole Dementor incident.” 

“Dementor incident? That’s what we are calling it?” Harry arched a brow at her. 

“It was either that of the Dementor Debacle,” Asher shrugged. “And that just sounds ridiculous.” 

Harry’s emerald eyes paused on her for a long moment, and he set down his quill to cross his arms over his chest. He leaned back in the chair carefully. “You’re different,” he told her, simply. 

Asher heart stopped. “How so?” Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. It was a struggle to mask the angst that threatened to spread across her face, and she curled her hands into fists to disguise the way her hands shook. 

“I don’t know.” Harry frowned. “You seem…more confident. I’ve never seen you stand up to Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia the way you did today. You…more passively hate them, than actively showcase it.” 

Asher considered his words, and they made her stomach twist in knots. She wanted nothing more than to confide in Harry, to tell him all of the things she had been through and had seen. However, now was not a good time. He had already so much on his shoulder and she didn’t want to add more to that. _But doesn’t that make you exactly like Hermione, Ron, and Sirius? Look at how angry he is at them, now image how angry he will be at you,_ a snide voice commented from the back of her mind, but she shoved it away. Guilt lanced through her, she felt it keenly like a knife to the gut. “I decided that being the peacekeeper isn’t always going to be an option. There is going to be a time when words aren’t enough, and I can’t hide in the background silently. Especially not when those I care about are going to be out in the front lines. So,” she tried to go for a teasing smile, “I decided to go buy a backbone. About time, don’t you think?” 

It did the trick, and Harry laughed. “You always had a backbone,” he told her, with a half smile. “You just needed to know how to use it.” 

Asher almost laughed for that was nearly the same thing that the Doctor had nearly said. “I don’t know whether to be offended, or not,” Asher had a contemplating look on her face before she shrugged it off. Harry didn’t meant it cruelly, and there was a hint of truth it in after all. While it had been hard living alone and going through all she went through, she was grateful to the crack in the wall in a way. It had made her stronger, and now she could be strong for her brother, too. Besides, she couldn’t regret meeting the Doctor. Amy, Rory, and him had been her family when she remembered having none. Clara became a part of that, too, later on. 

She hoped one day that both sides of her family could meet (minus the Dursleys for obvious reasons.) She stroked Magnus’s hair and the dog stretched out to get her to scratch his belly. Harry watched the dog with open amusement, and had to ask. “Where did you get him?” 

“It was an accident really. I noticed him lingering on the outskirts of Privet Drive,” she lied, trying to muster up a half smile. “He seemed friendly, and I knew that someone was bound to call animal control on him sooner or later. He is better off here than in some shelter or worse. Also he used the puppy eyes,” she gave a small laugh. “I couldn’t help myself.” 

“He is not a puppy,” Harry pointed out. Asher always had a big heart, and a soft spot for animals. He supposed he should be more surprised it had taken her this long to bring an animal home, rather than the fact the animal was actually here. 

“Neither am I, but I use the puppy eyes, too,” Asher stated, with a snort. “Your point?” 

Harry held up his hands in mute surrender, and he winced as he stood up out of his chair. “Ow…Are you still hurting from picking up Dudley?” He questioned as he walked over to his bed with his letters in hand. He had to wait until Hedwig got back, and he was too brain was too busy for sleep. Especially after everything. 

“I think I will be feeling it for days,” Asher said, with a rueful smile. “Left bed post,” she pointed to the head of his bed. “It’s loose. I sometimes sneak some aspirin or Tylenol when I can. I can’t remember if there is any.” 

Harry arched a brow. “I always wondered where you got the medicine from. I had thought…maybe Petunia gave it to you, but I suppose that was a silly thought,” Harry commented, and he wiggled the top half of the circle bedpost off. Lucky for him, there were indeed four aspirin. He picked them up, and offered two to Asher who shook her head. 

Her pain threshold was a great deal higher than it used to be. Harry took two and hid the others back in the hiding place. As he swallowed the medicine he rested his head against the wall. Asher watched him for a long moment, before she let her gaze fall into her lap. She felt like a fake sitting on her bed in this room, like she was that fifteen old witch she was supposed to be when she knew the truth. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Hedwig soared through the window with a soft rustle of wings like a small ghost. 

“Where have you been?” Harry demanded, lightly when she landed upon the edge of the bed. Hedwig’s large round amber eyes gazed reproachfully at him over the dead frog clamped in her beak, then she gave wild hoot when Magnus leapt off of Asher’s bed towards the owl. The owl did an awkward flight backwards towards Harry while Magnus rested his head on the edge of Harry’s bed, looking at Hedwig with hopeful eyes. His tail wagged furiously side to side. 

Hedwig gave Magnus a look of pure disdain as she flexed the claws on her right foot experimentally. “No,” Harry knew his owl well. “You don’t claw him.” 

Hedwig gave Harry a long deadpanned stare, before she gave a gravely shriek after dropping the frog on the bed. Harry picked up the three small rolls of parchment, and a leather thong and tying the scrolls to her scaly leg. “I know you just got in, but after you are done with your supper,” he looked at the frog with more than a little disgust, “I need you to deliver them. It’s really important.” 

The owl huffed. After she got done with her frog she flew out the window much to Magnus’s disappointment. He gave Harry a pitiful look, and whine. “Sorry,” he shrugged, and Magnus just bowed his head before he got back up on the bed with Asher. “I think that dog is way too smart.” 

“He is. He really is.” 

* * *

_Images, brief flickers, clashed together in her mind._

_The London streets, where she stood drowning in the rain. Her grief so blinding, so crippling that it sent her to her knees._

_Suddenly she was the blinding desert, the air so hot and dry that it was hard to breath._

_Another change in scenery, where she was screaming as a blade sliced through her and a diadem dropped from her fingertips. It was tarnished in blood._

_The next she was prowl through the forest, her long limbs taking her as fast as she could go, and she leapt tackling deer to the ground. Her teeth sank deep into, it’s flesh. She could taste the blood flow into her mouth…_

_Then she was rushing down the halls of Hogwarts, her teeth gritted in blistering rage and she could feel her magic crackle off of her dangerously. “Fools! You know nothing of survival!” Flashes of people burning, and blood curdling screams echoed in her ears. A cruel feeling inside of her chest, and she felt her rage only grow. This…wasn’t her. This was something else. Something dark and ugly and twisted, so much so that she felt fear hammer through her veins. Blood coated the walls, the Hogwart’s walls, and she saw people running for their lives._

_“If I am to burn, then you shall burn with me! YOU WILL, ALL BURN WITH ME!”_

Asher’s eyes snapped open, her lungs coiled tight and a scream on the tip of her tongue. Her body was coiled tight, her fingers buried into her blanket as she laid there immobile for several seconds. The familiar walls and the sound of Harry gently snoring across the room, slowly made her relax. The tension slipped out of her muscles, one by one, until she slumped back against the back the mattress. A quick glance out through the barred window told Asher that it was still quiet early in the morning, and she flopped back against her pillow with a tiny groan. Magnus whined a little scooting even closer to her if such a thing was even possible, and she patted his head gently. “I’m okay, boy.” 

She closed her eyes, feeling the burn of tears. Her heart sank in her chest, and a tremble ran from head to toes. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay…” If she said it enough, maybe it would be true. 

* * *

The following morning was uneventful. Hedwig had yet to return and the twins plus Magnus were not allowed to leave the bedroom other than the go the bathroom. Three times that day Aunt Petunia shoved food into the room, and either Asher or Harry had get to it before Magnus swallowed it all up. Though Asher gave most of her food to her dog, her appetite very little. She hated being confided in _the_ room, the walls felt too close and claustrophobia clawed at her throat. Asher watched with a deadpanned look as Harry tried to use those times to question Petunia about the Howler. He might as well have been talking to a doorknob for all the answers he got. 

Otherwise the Dursleys kept well clear of the twins. 

It went on for three days like this, and Asher was frustrated by it all. Magnus was getting antsy, and Harry was about to climb the walls. Or punch them. Asher was waiting to see which one would win out. With her back braced against the bed, and her legs leaned up against the wall crossed at the ankles, Asher stared at the world from an upside down point of view. It amused her for all of five minutes, and then Magnus had to flop down across her belly effectively pinning her to the bed. She wiggled and squirmed and shot a few glares at Harry who laughed at her predicament. “Laugh it up! After I get up, I’m sending this two hundred pound furry ball after you!” She threatened, and Harry’s chuckles ceased. 

Twenty minutes later, Asher finally got free. Magnus just laid asleep on the bed, the lazy mutt. She shook her head back and forth, before she got up off the bed. Stretching her arms up over her head, her back gave a satisfying pop and she walked over to the window. “Still no sign of Hedwig?” She asked, quietly. 

“No,” Harry stated, bitterly. 

Asher gave him a look. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just frustrated.” 

“I know. I am, too,” she admitted, with a sigh. “It doesn’t help being stuck up this room, either. Left to stew in our own thoughts. God, if they don’t answer soon I might punch them the next time I see them.” 

A grin broke across Harry’s face. “I’d like to see that,” he told her, with a slight laugh. 

“Don’t laugh. My right hook is not something to mock,” Asher told him, keeping her face as straight as possible. It didn’t last long because the smile tugged her lips upward. She sat down on her bed, and pulled out her backpack. She was a little hesitant on opening because she could not remember for the life of her what all was in it. She had gathered much from her traveling with the Doctor, and she was almost certain the Doctor threw stuff in there to room out the TARDIS, too. With it charmed to bigger on the inside the possibilities were infinite. She shifted around until she found her leather bound journal, something she had picked up in 1500th century Italy. 

She slowly unwind the leather strap that kept it closed, and carefully pulled it open only to jolt ever so slightly when a letter fell out. An indention formed upon her brow, she cocked her head to the side as she peered down at it for a few moments before she grasped the letter. She ripped through the white envelope, knowing instinctively that it had to be from the Doctor. 

And her instinct had been right. 

_Asher,_

_Reverting back to a normal life can be quite an endeavor after what you have gone through, and I could not in good conscious leave without some means of support. I have enclosed a mobile somewhere in the bag—good luck looking for it. Simply put I thought this would come in handy in your medieval death trap you call a school. I left a list of contacts if you should need them, and yes, it will work inside of that medieval death trap that you call a school. I made sure of it, and don’t bother asking how. It’s a bit out of your grasp, no offence._

_The Doctor_

“What’s that?” Harry inquired. 

Asher paused, her fingers tightened on the paper as she stared at Harry with a slightly startled expression. She cleared her throat, and did her best to smooth out her features. “A letter from a friend,” she commented, with a roll of her shoulders. “No one you know.” 

“You have a friend I don’t know?” Harry blinked. 

“I do have friends outside of you, Hermione and Ron,” said Asher, with a slight glare in her brother’s direction. There had been the Weasley twins who had gone out of their way to befriend her in her first year, trying to encourage her to get in more mischief. Then there was Luna Lovegood, her fellow Ravenclaw, who had become a fast friend in her second year. Of course, there was the Doctor and Clara. Amy and Rory were…gone, and she would never get to see them again. That was a somber thought and she felt a knot well up in the back of her throat. Clearing her throat, she slipped the letter back into her journal and crossed her arms over her chest. “Since when do I have to run my choice in friends by you for inspection anyways?” 

Harry gave her a dry look, and opened his mouth but before he could say a word the bedroom door flew open. Magnus flopped over on his belly, and his ears were flattened against his skull as he growled at Vernon who lingered in the doorway. 

“Easy, Magnus,” Asher stroked the back on his neck in the spot that he liked to try and calm him. He stopped growling, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Vernon. Vernon was wearing his best suit, Asher noted and an expression of enormous smugness that did not bode well all things considered. 

“We’re going out,” he said. 

“Pardon?” Asher blinked. 

“We—that is to say, your aunt, Dudley, and I—are going out.” 

“Fine,” said Harry dully, looking back at the ceiling. Asher breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she wasn’t going to have to endure an evening with the Dursleys. 

“You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away.” 

“Okay,” Asher gave a jaunty salute. 

“You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions,” Vernon warned. 

“Right,” Harry said, not interested in the slightest. 

“You are not to steal food from the fridge.” 

“We get the point,” Asher rolled her eyes ever so slightly. 

“I am going to lock your door.” 

“You do that,” Harry said. 

Uncle Vernon glared at them, clearly suspicious of this lack of argument then stomped out of the room with all the noise of a rampaging elephant. The door slammed shut, and the sound of the lock echoed through the room. Asher stared at the door with a bit bitter and resigned. A few minutes later the sound of the slamming of car doors, and the sound of tires pulling out of the drive way signaled the Dursleys departure. 

“I can pick the lock,” Asher told Harry, with certainty. “Fred and George gave me a lock picking set for my last birthday and taught me how to use it. Mrs. Weasley didn’t find it as funny.” 

“I bet she didn’t,” Harry smiled ever so slightly. “Let’s wait a little bit. Just in case, they come back.” 

Asher nodded. The room grew steadily darker as the sun had fallen completely behind the horizon, and the sound of crickets chirping floated through the open window. 

The empty house creaked and groaned with the wood settling. The pipes gurgled, the faint noise of water broke through the unease of silence. That was until a loud bang came down from stairs so suddenly and unexpectedly that it made Asher’s heart skip a beat. Her eyes were wide as her entire body was coiled tightly, and beside her Magnus sat alert. Her gaze flickered towards Harry, who had bolted upright. “I didn’t hear a car,” Asher murmured, quietly. 

“Neither did I,” Harry stated, listening intently. There were silence for several seconds before the sound of voice reached them. Voices that did not below to the Dursleys. 

“Burglars?” Asher mouthed. 

“Or worse,” Harry mouthed back. 

Asher slid up off her bed, and onto her feet as silently as she could as Harry pulled his wand out. Magnus could sense the tension in the air, and he let out a deep whine before he plopped on the floor along side of her. When Harry flanked her, Asher moved closer to the door to listen. There voices weren’t low, but they were too far away to decipher through a door which made Asher’s stomach twist. Burglars would be keeping there voices down, and whoever was down there had no qualms about making noise. 

An audible gasp ripped from her lips went the lock gave a loud click and she had to reel back in order not to get hit by the door as it swung open on its on. Harry managed to steady her before she toppled backwards over Magnus who gave a grunt at being stepped on. “Sorry, sorry,” she absentmindedly pat the dog’s head while staring at the door unblinkingly. 

She and Harry shared a look, then she raised an eyebrow while he frowned with a shrug and gave the door way a pointed look. Asher nodded in agreement, and the twins moved out of the room as silently as they could. Magnus was trying to be silent too, crouching to the ground and inching across the floor. If only he could make his pants less loud, Asher thought with a faint trace of amusement. That amusement dwindled when she saw shadows down below, silhouetted against the glow of the streetlight through the glass door. There were a lot of them, and Asher tensed, prepared for a fight. 

“Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone’s eye out,” said a low, growling voice. 

Asher made a face. “Is that…” She began. 

“Professor Moody?” Harry finished, uncertainly. 

“I don’t know so much about ‘Professor,’ ” growled the voice, “never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you two properly.” 

“We aren’t a side show,” Asher said, with a slight glower. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she looked down at the shadows. She wasn’t exactly thrilled because she had a very good reason to be suspicious of Moody. The last school year, they had thought they had been in the company of Mad-Eye Moody only to find out it was an impostor. An impostor who had no only stared a domino effect of bad things, but also had tried to murder her brother. Before Asher’s suspicious could get the better a second, slightly hoarse voice floated upstairs. 

“It’s all right, Harry, Asher. We’ve come to take you away.” 

Asher’s mouth fell open with shock, and her brows furrowed. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Harry just to be clear that he heard it, too, and wasn’t imagining things. “Professor Lupin?” Asher asked, her voice still layered with disbelief. 

“Why are we all standing in the dark?” said a third voice, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman’s. _“Lumos.”_

Asher narrowed her eyes at the such burst of magical light, and she frowned down at the people that were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing upon them too intently for Asher liking. “So…is this like a hobby for you people? Breaking into people’s house and gawking at them?” 

Harry gave a choked laughter, while a few people down below look a bit offended. Moody stared up at Asher with an indecipherable look before he pointed his wand at her. “I don’t remember you being so cheeky,” Moody commented, his head ticked to the side as his magical eye swirled about wildly. 

“Did you not? Pity,” Asher stated, dryly. “I find it’s one of my better qualities.” 

Remus Lupin stood nearest to the twins. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill; he had more gray hair than when farewells had been said, and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Yet despite his dismal appearance, he was smiling broadly up at them. Harry tried to smile back while Asher just stared, confused. Magnus looked at Remus rather curiously, and sniffed in the man’s direction. To the dog, Remus smelt funny. 

“Oooh, they looked just as I imagined them,” said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft. She looked the youngest there; she had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. “Wotcher, Harry and Asher!” 

Asher’s eyebrow ticked upward at the greeting. She gave a half hesitant wave in reply while shooting Harry a look, with her eyebrows up towards her hairline. 

“Yes, I see what you mean, Remus,” said a bald black wizard standing farthest back; he had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear. “He looks exactly like James, and the girl looks like remarkable like her mother.” 

“Except the eyes,” said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back. “The boy has Lily’s eyes. The girl has James’s.” 

Asher pursed her lips, not liking be talked about when she was standing just up the staircase however she bite her tongue in favor of evaluating the situation. So, someone sent this lot to come and get them. Dumbledore was the most likely candidate, but there had been no indication that this wasn’t a ruse. A façade of a familiar faces to lure them into a false sense of security, and Asher wished she had her wand. Her eyes glanced at Mad-Eye Moody who looked at them suspiciously, and she felt a flare of annoyance rush through her. He had no right to be suspicious, he was the one to break into this place and not the other way around. 

“Are you quite sure it’s them, Lupin?” he growled. “It’d be our heads if we brought back Death Eaters impersonating the twins.” 

“Shouldn’t we be asking _you_ that?” Asher pointed a finger at the ex-auror. 

Moody ignored the petulant remark, and looked over the werewolf. “We ought to ask him something only the real Potter twins would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?” He asked. 

“Harry, what form does your Patronus take?” said Lupin. 

“A stag,” said Harry nervously. 

“That’s him, Mad-Eye,” said Lupin. 

Harry made to descend the stairs, when Asher grasped him arm and he looked at her. She gave him a look before straightening her spine to look at the group down below. It was very hard no to be self-conscious under everybody’s gaze, but Asher swallowed that feeling down. “Quid pro quo I believe is necessary for this situation. Prof…Remus, what form did my boggart take in third year?” She asked, quietly. The memory came to her unbidden from the back of her mind of that day. 

Remus gave her a long look. “It became a wall,” he told her, after a moment. “With a crack running through it that glowed and whispered.” 

All the tension drained out of Asher’s shoulders for the only person to witness that had been Remus himself. It had happened in one of his private sessions with Harry, while Asher had lingered in the background. When Harry had passed out, the boggart dementor too strong for him, Asher had instinctively rushed to her brother’s side. The boggart instantly shifted from a dementor, and into her worst fear. 

“Smart lass,” Moody nodded, approvingly. “Constant vigilance.” 

Asher fought a wince. Moody’s tagline did not come as a comfort especially when for most of the year a Death Eater had been sprouting it at them. Rubbing the back of her neck as she halted a couple of steps away from the bottom stair where Harry stood, her expression one carefully placed together. She had never liked dealing with strangers, most often than not they were after something. _Did these people actually see them,_ Asher wondered silently to herself. _Or did they see the boy-who-lived and his kid sister?_

Harry stowed his wand into the back of his jeans, and Moody’s expression turned livid. “Don’t put your wand there, boy!” roared Moody. “What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!” 

“Who d’you know who’s lost a buttock?” the violet-haired woman asked Mad-Eye interestedly. 

“Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!” growled Mad-Eye. “Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore. . . .” He stumped off toward the kitchen. “And I saw that,” he added irritably, as the woman rolled her eyes at the ceiling. 

Harry glanced at Asher. “Better the butt than other things,” he muttered underneath his breath, and Asher smirked. Remus, too, gave a light chuckle before he clapped both of them on their shoulders. 

He stared down at them with a fond twinkle in his eyes, before he looked at the pair of them closely. There was a knot of concern on his brow, and he asked, “How are the both of you? Holding up well?” 

“F-fine…” Harry sounded dazed. To go from no contact to wizards filling up the house was a bit disorienting to say the least. 

“Asher?” Remus looked to her. 

Asher stood there for a long moment before she gave a shrug. “Been better,” Asher admitted, wryly. “Been worse.” 

There was flicker of sadness in Remus’s eyes for he knew that twins had been through much more during their fourth year than the previous years. “Well, it is good to see you both are well now,” he said, softly. “Now, let’s get things together. The Dursleys were fooled—” 

“By me!” The violet haired one declared proudly. “It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they’d been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They’re heading off to the prize-giving right now…Or they think they are.” 

“Ooooh,” Asher’s face split into a grin at the thought of the Dursleys’ faces when they realized that it had all be a hoax. It was regrettable that would be no pictures to commemorate the occasion, but Asher’s vivid imagination would have to do. “I think I like you,” she pointed at the violet haired woman. 

“It’s always good to be liked,” the woman smirked. “Tonks, at your service. Last name, mind you. I would have to kill you if I told my first one.” 

“Really?” Harry asked. 

“No,” Remus shook his head. “Nymphodora isn’t fond of her first name,” he stated, with a hint of mischief upon the edge’s of his lips. 

Tonks’s cheeks darkened. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” She glared at the werewolf whose expression was serene and huffed. “I have no idea what my mother was thinking calling me Nymphodora.” 

Asher used to have similar thoughts. Her mother had named her after the ash wood tree, breaking the tradition of flower names for the females in her family line. Now, Asher felt that she had gotten quite lucky compared to Tonks. 

“We are leaving, aren’t we?” Harry asked. 

“Soon?” Asher added, hopefully. 

“Almost at once,” said Lupin, “we’re just waiting for the all-clear.” 

“Where are we going? The Burrow?” Harry guessed. 

“Not the Burrow, no,” said Lupin, motioning Harry and Asher toward the kitchen; the little knot of wizards followed, all still eyeing the pair curiously. “Too risky. We’ve set up headquarters somewhere undetectable. It’s taken a while…” 

“Headquarters?” Asher frowned. Mad-Eye Moody was now sitting at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in the Dursleys’ many labor-saving appliances. Asher almost asked him if he would like to test for explosive, but decided against it. The Dursleys were going to be livid over the fake lawn award, and have Moody destroy there kitchen would just add more fuel to the fire. It was really tempting though. 

“You are already acquainted with Alastor and Tonks,” Remus stated, then gestured to the people beside him. “And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt”—he indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed—“Elphias Doge”—the wheezy-voiced wizard nodded—“Dedalus Diggle—” 

“We’ve met before,” squeaked the excitable Diggle, dropping his top hat. 

Asher vaguely recalled him a store when she was much younger. He had bowed excitedly to Harry before Petunia had forced them to leave abruptly. 

“—Emmeline Vance”—a stately looking witch in an emerald green shawl inclined her head—“Sturgis Podmore”—a square jawed wizard with thick, straw-colored hair winked — “and Hestia Jones.” A pink-cheeked, black-haired witch waved from next to the toaster. “A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you two,” said Lupin, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. 

“Quite a number,” Asher muttered, wishing they would do something other stare at them. It was as Harry and her were some kind of new zoo animal on display for the first time. 

“Yeah, well, the more the better,” said Moody darkly. “We’re your guard.” 

“We’re just waiting for the signal to tell us it’s safe to set off,” said Lupin, glancing out of the kitchen window. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes.” 

Asher fought the urge to fidget anxiously. After running with the Doctor so long, it about killed her to be cooped up in this house for three days. The very thought of freedom had her heart racing in her chest, and she fought very hard against the grin that threatened to split across her face. Even if they weren’t going to the Burrow, wherever they would go would be better than here. 

“Very _clean,_ aren’t they, these Muggles?” said the witch called Tonks, who was looking around the kitchen with great interest. “My dad’s Muggle-born and he’s a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?” 

“I guess, though I suspect Petunia suffers from some form of OCD,” Asher stated, very seriously. There was no other explanation for the woman to clean as much as she did. 

“OCD?” Tonks blinked. 

“Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,” Asher said. 

“Is that some kind of muggle disease?” Tonks made a face. 

“It is not a disease persay,” Asher said, with a shrug. She had a feeling trying to describe the difference would only cause more confusion, so she let the matter lie. “Besides, aren’t we a bit off topic.” 

“Er—yeah,” said Harry. “Look,” he turned back to Lupin, “what’s going on? We haven’t heard anything from anyone, and suddenly you show up. Has something happened? Is it Vol—?” 

Several of the witches and wizards made odd hissing noises; Dedalus Diggle dropped his hat again, and Moody growled, “ _Shut up!_ ” 

“Oh, it is just a name,” Asher huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself.” 

“Be as that may, we’re not discussing anything here, it’s too risky,” said Moody, turning his normal eye on Harry; his magical eye remained pointing up at the ceiling. “ _Damn it,_ ” he added angrily, putting a hand up to the magical eye, “it keeps sticking—ever since that scum wore it—” And with a nasty squelching sound much like a plunger being pulled from a sink, he popped out his eye. 

Asher made a face as she gagged. “Oh, god,” she swallowed thickly, before she made a hacking noise and turned away. “I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“Mad-Eye, you do know that’s disgusting, don’t you?” said Tonks conversationally. 

“Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry?” asked Moody, ignoring Tonks and Asher all together. 

Harry crossed to the dishwasher, took out a clean glass, and filled it with water at the sink, still watched eagerly by the band of wizards. “Cheers,” said Moody, when Harry handed him the glass. He dropped the magical eyeball into the water and prodded it up and down; the eye whizzed around, staring at them all in turn. “I want three-hundred-and-sixty degrees visibility on the return journey.” 

“Just…just keep that out of my sight,” Asher gestured with a hand towards Moody without turning around. Her stomached twisted, and it was almost laughable that out all of the things that she had seen that she was squeamish over an eyeball. 

Harry would have laughed at his sister, but he had a question on his mind. “How’re we getting—wherever we’re going?” Harry asked. 

“Brooms,” said Lupin. “We can’t use Apparation, and they’ll be watching the Floo Network, and it’s more than our life’s worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey.” 

“Uh…Flying is good and all, but…” A sudden thought occurred to Asher, when she glanced down at her dog who looked at all the people curiously. “What am I supposed to do about him?” She pointed down at the Magnus, and everyone looked at the animal as if just realizing he was in the room. 

Magnus cocked his head to the side as if to say, Who me? 

* * *

“This better not have any lasting damage.” 

“It won’t.” 

“He better be perfectly healthy.” 

“He will.” 

“I will gut you like a fish, and use your innards as a jump rope if he so much has a hair out of place,” Asher threatened, hands on her hips as she glowered at Mad-Eye Moody. 

“Creative,” the ex-auror looked entirely nonplused by the threat. With a wave of his wand, Magnus shrunk in size until he was small enough to fit into a pocket which is exactly what happened next. Remus picked up the dog which now fit perfectly in the palm of his hand before he placed Magnus in his breast pocket. The dog had a confused look on his face as if he did not understand why everything was suddenly so big. 

“We ready? Or have you not had your fill of complaining?” Moody said, gruffly. 

Asher gave him a lethal look. “We are ready,” she said, testily. While the others discussed how best to bring Magnus along, Asher and Harry had hurriedly packed their things. Tonks had helped, and had demonstration her Metamorphmagi abilities which Asher was completely envious of. It was a shame that it genetic thing, and something that couldn’t be taught. 

Moody took a moment to replace his eye, which made Asher gag once again because honestly, it was disgusting. Kingsley and Podmore managed to pull themselves away from the microwave while Hestia Jones put down the potato peeler, and Remus set a letter down on the counter addressed to the Dursleys. 

“There really is no point in doing that, you know?” Asher told him, bluntly. 

“It’s so your aunt and uncle won’t worry,” Remus stated, with a smile. 

“They won’t,” Harry said, flatly. “Honestly, it will just depress them.” 

Remus’s face twisted downward into a frown. There was a bit of foreboding to his expression, but before he could say anything else Moody beckoned to the twins. “Come here. We need to Disillusion the pair of you.” 

“Disia…what?” Asher asked, blankly. 

“Disillusionment Charm,” said Moody, raising his wand. 

Asher fought against the instinct to flinch back away from Moody. Memories of the end of last year came flooding back when Barty Crouch under the guise of Moody had pulled Harry away, and Asher followed. She could still feel the burn of the curse run across her skin, the horrible feeling of her muscles contorting against her will and the urge to scream rose up in her throat. She bit the inside of her cheeks harshly, her finger tips clenching around the air as if to magically grasp her wand. She felt its lose quite keenly now when she wanted it the most. 

She jumped when Moody rapped her hard on top of the head, then she felt the magic slid down from her skull then across her face like cold fingers. It ran down her body like an ice cold waterfall, and when Asher looked down she made a startled noise. She could not see herself. She moved her hands, experimentally and noted that when she moved she could see the faint out of line of her body. 

So not like the Invisibility Cloak, more like a chameleon blending into its surrounding. “That’s useful,” Asher said, with a tone of awe inside of her voice. “Hey, Harry,” she turned and narrowed her eyes on the empty space beside her. “Are you there?” 

“Ow!” 

“Sorry,” Asher wasn’t really. 

“You hit me!” Harry stated, accusingly. 

“I said I was sorry.” 

“If you two are done with your squabbling,” Moody stated, unlocking the back door with his wand. They all stepped outside onto Uncle Vernon’s beautifully kept lawn. Technically it should be called Asher and Harry’s lawn since they did most of the heavy labor in keeping it that way. 

“Clear night,” grunted Moody, his magical eye scanning the heavens. 

It true was a spectacular night, Asher mused as she looked up at the stars as with a smile that she would give to a long lost friend. Her ached at the sight of them, a good kind of ache as she remembered her time amongst those stars. She wondered which on the Doctor and Clara were on right now. 

“Could’ve done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you two,” Moody barked at Harry, “we’re going to be flying in close formation. Tonks’ll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Your sister shall be flying with Lupin, who’ll be covering you from below. I’m going to be behind you. The rest’ll be circling us. We don’t break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed—” 

“Is that likely?” Harry asked apprehensively, but Moody ignored him. 

“We are going to be hundred of feet in the air,” Asher gave him a dry look. “Of course there is a chance.” 

“You only say that because you don’t like flying.” 

“Can you blame me?” Asher demanded. The fear of heights was engrained on her when she was seven years old. She had been fearless and climbed the trees on the outskirts of the school playground. Dudley and his buddies found her. They had thrown rocks at her until she fell from the tree and busted her skull against the ground. She had been very lucky to only have received a concussion from it. Broom flying and Quidditch was simply not for her. 

Moody gave the pair a glare for not listening, but Tonks huffed at the ex-auror. “Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he’ll think we’re not taking this seriously,” said Tonks, as she strapped Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage into a harness hanging from her broom. 

“I’m just telling them the plan,” growled Moody. “Our job’s to deliver them safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt —” 

“No one’s going to die,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice. 

“Mount your brooms, that’s the first signal!” said Lupin sharply, pointing into the sky. 

Far, far above them, a shower of bright red sparks had flared among the stars. Asher realized that that must have been the signal, and she got onto the broom behind Remus. She held on tightly, because the thought of leaving the ground was terrifying to her. She could already feel the sweat break out along her skin, and she clenched her eyes closed. 

“Second signal, let’s go!” said Lupin loudly, as more sparks, green this time, exploded high above them. 

She might have scream a little bit when Remus kicked off hard from the ground, though she would deny it if anyone asked. The warm summer air rustled through her hair, whipping it all about as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away. Not that she opened her eyes to look, she was determined to keep them shut for the entire ride. _At least Harry is having a good time,_ she thought. She could practically feel the waves of content roll off of him, and knew that this flight was exactly what he needed. 

“Hard left, hard left, there’s a Muggle looking up!” shouted Moody, loudly. 

“Eeeeh!” Asher felt her stomach flip as they turned abruptly. They soared higher until the lights below were nothing more than tiny pinpricks below. The wind was a great whoosh against her ears as they sped through the air, and she felt her heart hammer against her ribcage. She tightened her grip on Remus each time the broomstick jostled slightly, and was praying for a safe landing. One which she would have all her limbs intact and in functioning condition. 

“Bearing south!” shouted Mad-Eye. “Town ahead!” 

They soared right, so that they did not pass directly over the glittering spiderweb of lights below. There had been a fight when Moody suggested going through a cloud, but Tonks firmly shot it down. 

Asher was eternally grateful. The cold air bit into her skin with an unrelenting force, and she shivered violently. It was through sheer willpower that she kept her arms locked around Remus and did not fall from the broom. Her ears ached, and her nose was tinted red from the blistering wind. She tried to conjure up thought of a nice warm summer beach where she soaked up the sun, or where she was wrapped in a blanket in front of a nice warm fire. 

Her head bobbed, and she wondered how long they had been flying. It felt like hours had passed by, or had it simply been minutes? Asher wasn’t entirely sure anymore. 

“Time to start the descent!” Lupin’s voice jolted Asher back into the present. “Follow Tonks, Harry!” 

Asher cracked her eyes open, just a tiny bit to make out the blurry image of Harry following Tonk into a dive. Beneath them were a large collection of lights. A huge, crisscrossing mass, glittering lines and grids, interspersed with patches of deepest black. Lower and lower they flew, and Asher could feel the warmth seep back into the air and she drew in a relieved breath. 

“Here we go!” called Tonks, and a few seconds later she had landed. Harry followed suit, and just a split second later, so did Remus. 

Asher was off the broom before Remus’s feet hit the ground, and her knees buckled right out underneath her. She pitched forward, bracing her elbows on the ground as she pressed her forehead against the hard ground. There was tremble rushing through her, and her vision went blurry. Pain raked across her mind like nails on a chalkboard, and she felt some sick sort of déjà vu. Images of fire and ruin flashed before her minds eyes too quickly for her to decipher as a clawing sensation that started some in the center of her chest, then scrambled up her throat constricting her breath. 

“Asher,” Remus’s hand landed on her shoulder. 

She pulled away from the asphalt, and craned her neck back to look at him. She sat there for more than a moment completely silent before she found her voice. “I’m fine. Just…trying to get over the knock off effect,” she swallowed, thickly. She grasped the arm that he offered, and stood up on her shaky legs. 

Asher finally took a good look at her surroundings. They were not welcoming in the slightest. Most of the houses had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the street lamps. The paint peeled from many doors, and heaps of rubbish laid on several front steps. However, there was a faint charm that time could not simply erase. The way the buildings had been built with utmost care and attention. 

“Where are we?” Harry asked. 

“In a moment,” Lupin said, quietly. 

Asher furrowed her brows, taking a step forward. There was something off with this place, a faint hum buzzed incessantly like radio static in her ear. There was blurred, like two images that did not make sense in the space between the building numbered 11 and the building numbered thirteen. _That was strange…where is number 12?_ The thought was painfully as if something was trying to suppress it into the back of her mind. Like something did not want her to think of that at all, and the hairs on the nape of her neck rose. 

Magic. There was some kind of magic here. She just couldn’t put her finger on exactly what, and she turned back towards the group. “What’s--” She began to ask, but Moody cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. 

Moody rummaged in his cloak, his gnarled hands clumsy from the cold. “Got it,” he growled out, and raised what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air. With one click, the nearest streetlamp went out with a soft pop. He clicked it again, and the next once went out. He kept clicking until all the light in the square had been extinguished. 

Now the only light that fell upon the was from the sickle moon overhead. “Borrows it from Dumbledore,” Moody stated, putting the magical device back into his pocket. “That’ll take care of any Muggles that are about, peeking out of windows. Now, quickly.” 

“Now quickly what?” Asher asked. 

“Here,” Moody muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment towards Harry’s Disillusioned hand. “Read quickly and memorize it. The both of you,” he held his lit wand close to it, so as to illuminate the writing. 

Asher shared a quick look with Harry before her brother unfolded the parchment, and there was one simple sentence written neatly on the paper. 

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

“What’s the Order of the—?” Harry began. 

“Not here, boy!” snarled Moody. “Wait till we’re inside!” 

He pulled the piece of parchment abruptly from Harry’s grasp, and set it aflame with the tip of his wand. As the message curled into flames, and floated to the ground as a single piece of smoldering ash, Asher looked up at the houses again with a bemused frown. Suddenly the blurred image that had been giving her a migraine became more clear, and her lips parted in surprise when a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. 

“Well…” Asher looked faintly impressed. “Ain’t that neat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Asher's Name:_
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> Asher is Hebrew in origin meaning: "happy, blessed one". I chose it because its connection to the ashwood tree, because the legends surrounding the tree. Also it vaguely keeps into the theme of the women in Lily's family begin named for plants. 
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> 1.)The Ash tree has always been given mystical import and character, frequently being associated with healing and enchantment. In Celtic literature, in particular it is associated with the Welsh Magician-God Gwyddion, who bears an Ash staff/wand, a symbol of healing and especially transformation and empowerment in matters of destiny. In some traditions, Witches were said to live inside Ash trees, in the Germanic traditions. In the Greek Hellenic traditions the Melai Nymphs were said to dwell within Ash trees, and it is suggested there was associated sacred rites in this traditions.
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> 2.) It was also a folklore tradition that Snakes could not bear to be near an Ash tree or a wood cut from an Ash. I actually named Asher and debated on changing it before I learned this tidbit of information and decided right then and there it was the right name for her.
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> 3.) According to the Roman writer Pliny the Elder, all evil things feared ashwood. Ygdrasil, the tree in which the world was founded (according to Norse mythology) was made of ash.
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> These are just a few reasons I gave her the name Asher, and I thought they were interesting. If you want to learn more about why Asher is named Asher, then you can learn a little bit more about the ash tree's importance here: http://www.druidry.org/library/trees/tree-lore-ash
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> Elizabeth Webber gif is by Aria, I found it on an EW appreciation thread.


	3. Behind Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asher and Harry arrive at Grimmauld Twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Inspired by the following songs:  
> “Break In” by Halestorm (There is a line in the song that says ‘You let me breakdown without letting go’. I feel that is important for this chapter, and as a prelude to Asher’s feelings that will become very apparent in this next chapter.)
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> I want to thank Tilliraen for boodmarkiing this story! :D

CHAPTER THREE

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/hp3_zpsbye5ffdi.png.html)

“Behind Blue Eyes”

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Asher crossed over the threshold into inky darkness. There was nothing, but shadows in the hallway as she stepped forward with Magnus at her heels. There was a smell of rot that curled around her nose, a damp musty smell that was not pleasant scent at all. Magnus gave a small whine, he didn’t like the place either. She took a deep long breath, not entirely sure where she was supposed to go so she just cautiously made her way down the hallway. There was a sense of unrest in this house, something made the hair stand up on the nape of her neck. 

At the end of the hallway was a staircase leading up the next level, while at the base was a door way to the right and on the left was a dirty, graying sheet hung upon the wall as if covering something. 

“Don’t touch anything,” Lupin warned. 

“Had no plans of it,” Asher muttered, underneath her breath. There was something funky behind that sheet on the wall, something she had a feeling she didn’t care to see. She swept her gaze towards the lit room and found herself staring into was appeared to be a large dining area. Familiar faces sat upon each side of the table. Mrs. Weasley and her husband on one side, while Sirius sat on the other. Judging from the disgruntle face on everyone’s face they had just got done arguing. Harry made to stand beside when he bumped into the umbrella stand. 

Asher jumped at the noise, and instinctively grasped the wall. Except she didn’t, she grabbed the sheet on the wall and pulled it off the wall. She had never regretted something so much in her entire life for as the sheet fell, the screaming started. 

_“Filth! Scum! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks! Begone from this place! How are you befoul the house of my fathers!”_ The severe woman on the portrait screamed at the top of her lungs. 

Magnus leaped back, his ears flattened against his skull and he gave a high pitched whine as he bared his teeth up at the painting. Asher pressed her hands against her throbbing ears, and her entire body coiled tightly. A frantic tremor rushed down her spine as all her instincts urged her to lash out and protect herself from the threat. 

“SHUT UP!” Sirius roared, skidding to a halt right in front of the portrait. “Shut up, you miserable old hag! Quiet!” 

_“Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!”_ The woman shouted, her eyes stared down at Sirius as if she wished to set him aflame. 

“Yes, yes, and do shut,” Sirius glared, as he reached down to grab the sheet and before the portrait could shout again, he threw it over the painting. And all was blissfully silent, save for the deep breaths that Sirius took. He ran his hand through his hair before he turned towards Harry, who he seen right away. “Harry,” he pulled his godson into a big hug. 

Asher clenched her eyes tightly closed and pressed her hand to her chest. She took deep gulps of air, her lungs felt too tight and she used the doorway to keep herself upright. She could feel the claws of panic slowly ebb away, and release their grip on her heart. She peeled her eyes open, staring down at the dark wood floors when a flash of black out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her gaze through the dining room, all the way to the other door way past Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. 

Across the room, in the other doorway stood a man. He was a striking man, dressed impeccably in a vividly black long frock coat, with a high starched collar with a dark wrapped around cravat. Beneath his coat, he wore a black vest of a white shirt and dark leggings the same shade to match the vest and coat. He looked as if he belonged in eighteen hundreds in London, though that seemed to be the common wizarding world fashion. Particularly for purebloods, Asher let her eyes roam over him from head to toe. His hair was dark as a raven’s wing, and a strong contrast to his alabaster skin. His face was narrow with the sharp jut of cheekbones over hollowed cheeks. He had an aristocratic nose, long and straight and lips that were shaped like cupid’s bow. He was clean shaven, enhancing the angles to his face and he looked like some foreboding lord of the manor straight out a novella. 

Even with his face turned downward to look at the gold pocket watch in the palm of his hand with a deep frown, he stood with immaculate posture. He let out a wordless sigh, he slid the watch back into the pocket of his vest. He raised his head, and eyed the group in a sharp piercing manner. His face was that of a man who held few joys and much despair, more despair that anyone should have to go through. His jaw was clenched tight with displeasure, and he stared upon the group with a sardonic gleam in his midnight blue eyes. The man’s gaze passed over Harry then her before his head snapped back to do a double take. 

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/tumblr_mgc1wrnDnk1r4pwt8o3_500_zpsk1zwsuia.gif.html)

His blue eyes stared straight into hers, and Asher felt herself draw in a sharp breath. The man stood up from his stood a little straighter if such a thing was possible, and his expression was one of pure shock. His brows furrowed, his those lips shaped like a cupid’s bow parted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed as his head tilted to the side. His gaze burned into her, pressed into her in a way that it made her take a step back. Her lips pressed together as a shiver ran down her spine, and her eyes were wide. Instead, she held this nameless man’s gaze with wide eyes for several heartbeats feeling a sharp sensation right below her chest. It was as if he stole the very breath out of her lungs until they burned in agony, and she felt her knees shake threatening to give out right from underneath her. 

Then suddenly with one blink of the eye, the man disappeared. Asher barely stifled a gasp of surprise. It was not as if he walked away. He had simply vanished from the adjacent doorway as if he had never been there in the first place! 

“Asher! What are you doing standing all the way over there?” Sirius released Harry from his grasp, which made Asher realize that her heated stare down with the strange man had only been a few seconds all together instead of the eternity it had felt like. Before Asher could say anything she found herself pulled into a tight hug by her godfather, and she hugged back after a moment. 

“Sirius! You crushing me!” Asher said, after finding her voice. She didn’t really mind the hug though. Sirius was another person she had missed so dearly. 

“Sorry, bambi,” he pulled back, with a wide grin. His face was no longer as gaunt as it once had been, filled out with plenty of food and nutrition yet there was still a graveness that was not so easily undone. A grim countenance born from twelve years in Azkaban, from surviving in one of the worst kind of hells made even terrible by knowing his innocence. His blue eyes always held a wariness in them, even when they contained such mischief as they did right now. 

“No worries,” she gave a light shrug and a wide smile. He always called her bambi, while he always called Harry pup. 

“Did you get taller?” Sirius asked, suddenly. 

“A little bit,” her smile dropped into something a little more hesitation. Her hands dropped to her side, one landing on Magnus’s head. 

“Now who is this handsome fellow?” Sirius leaned down towards Magnus, who eagerly perked up at the attention. His tongue lolled out of the corner of his mouth when Sirius scratched a spot that made his hinder leg thump against the wooden floor. 

“That’s Magnus. He’s mine,” Asher said, she swore the dog had a happy grin on his face. If Asher didn’t know any better, she might be a tiny bit worried that Sirius could steal him away from her. Speaking of worries, she thought and her gaze flickered back towards the dining room. The other door way was empty like the man had been nothing more than a ghost yet he looked perfectly alive. Nothing like the glowing blue, slightly see through quality that all ghosts had. Her brows knotted together, and she opened her mouth to say something when Mrs. Weasley stepped into her line of sight. 

“Oh, Asher,” Mrs. Weasley pulled her into a hug. “It is so good to see you, my dear girl. How have you been?” 

“I’ve been really good, Mrs. Weasley,” Asher assured her, with a nod and half smile. “And yourselves? Have you all been okay?” She asked, her voice filled with concern. Even though Mrs. Weasley’s smile was still as bright as ever, it was obvious that she had been under much stress. There were several new strands of grey in her ginger locks, and she had lost a severe amount of weight. The lines on her face were more pronounced as if she had been frowning a lot recently. 

“Never better. Never better,” Mrs. Weasley said, her voice suspiciously light. She turned towards Harry, and pulled him into a rib cracking hug. “Oh, Harry, it’s lovely to see you!” she whispered, as she withdrew to hold him at arm’s length and examining him critically. “You’re looking peaky; you need feeding up, both of you,” she swept her gaze over Asher who ducked her head in an embarrassed manner. “But you’ll have to wait a bit for dinner, I’m afraid.” 

“He’s here,” Mr. Weasley announced to the others. 

Asher instantly perked up. “Dumbledore?” 

“Never you mind,” Mrs. Weasley said, in a too pleasant tone. Like a parent speaking down to a child too young to understand what was going on. “Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting’s over and then we’ll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall,” she added in an urgent whisper. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t want to wake anything up.” 

“Okay?” Asher said, slowly. What did she mean by that? Or something worse? What could be worse than that painting? 

“I’ll explain later, I’ve got to hurry, I’m supposed to be at the meeting—I’ll just show you where you’re sleeping,” Mrs. Weasley told them, brightly. 

Asher felt a protest bubble up in her throat, but she bit her bottom lip harshly to keep them back. As much as she wanted to know more about what was going on, she knew right now was not the time to put up protest even though she desperately wished to have a word with Dumbledore. Without a word, she trailed after Mrs. Weasley with Harry only a couple of steps behind her. The steps creaked and groan as they made their way up the lengthy staircase, and Asher eyed a series of plaque on the walls. 

A small startled gasp was pulled through her when she realized that upon the plaques were the heads of house elves. Her eyes widened a margined because she did not understand why anyone would do just a thing. This house looked like it belonged to the Darkest of wizards, and if the portrait of the former Missus Black was any indication, then this house belonged to the Black Family. Sirius hadn’t told them anything of his family, but she had heard things about the Black family. Whispers and not of the good variety, so she supposed the décor was fitting. 

They reached the second landing, and Magnus went about sniffing the rug experimentally before he let out a big sneeze when too much dust flew up his nose. Asher just shook her head lightly at him, a soft fond smile on her lips. The smile dropped just a fraction when her eyes felt drawn upon as a jolt of cold rushed down her spine. There at the very end of the hallway stood a door, jet black in color with a golden serpent handle that gleamed. Her fingers twitched, and she had the strangest urge to step forward. 

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry spoke up jolting her from her thoughts. “Why—?” 

“Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I’ve really got to dash,” Mrs. Weasley whispered distractedly. “It’s the first door on you’re right. I’ll call you when it’s over.” 

And she hurried off downstairs again. 

Asher watched her go with a light frown, before her eyes glanced back the door that lingered at the end of the hall. Harry crossed the dingy landing, and as soon as he opened the bedroom door, he found himself being attacked by a squealing Hermione. Asher twisted her head, and grinned broadly at the sight of Harry’s flushed face as the bushy haired girl tried to squeeze the life out of them while Pigwidgeon zoomed ecstatically around their heads. 

She wished she had a camera. 

“Harry!” Hermione pulled back enough to allow Harry to breath, but still hadn’t released him. “Asher! You’re here! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless—” 

“An understatement,” Asher said, wryly. “The paper you wasted probably killed an entire rain forest, you know?” There was a twitch of her lips, the only indication she was joking. 

Hermione gave her a mock glare, as Ron strode out of the room eating a chocolate frog. “What’s a rain forest?” He asked, chewing the chocolate. 

Asher, Harry, and Hermione all looked at him. “Are you serious?” Asher was the one who broke the silence, and raised an eyebrow at the redhead. 

“What?” Ron blinked. 

“Nevermind,” Harry said, irritably. He pulled abruptly away from Hermione and missed the wounded look that flickered across her face. “We are getting off track, aren’t we?” He marched into the room when he saw a flash of white feathers, and he found Hedwig perched on the end of one of the twin beds waiting restlessly for his attention. 

Hermione and Ron shared a look before they moved after him. Asher made to follow to when a low growl made her pause in step, and she looked down at Magnus. A flash of surprise ran through her because she had forget about him, and usually he didn’t let one forget about him. He hadn’t even tackled Hermione or Ron which was his usual way of behaving. However, ever since he entered this house she had barely seen him act like his usual self. Like right in this moment, his ears were flattened against his skull and his body taunt prepared for an attack. 

His eyes pinned on that door. 

Asher felt a shiver ran down her spine when she realized there was a thin trail of light coming from the bottom of the door. As if someone had a candle burning, and her lips parted in slight surprise. Was there someone down there? “Stay here, boy,” she patted Magnus’s head lightly as she walked passed him. Magnus let out a small whine, but he stayed put as his mistress requested. 

She put one foot cautiously in front of the other, her gaze unblinking fixated on the door and her heart beating like a war drum in her chest. Did the hallway seem longer or was it perhaps her mind playing tricks? She could not be for certain as she walked along that hallway, the boards beneath her feet ached and groaned. The walls shifted and moaned with all the spookiness of an Edgar Allen Poe novel. She planted both her feet firmly on the ground as she came face to face with the black door. 

There was a terrible roaring in her eyes as she were trapped in some sort of wind tunnel, and slowly she raised her hands. Her palms pressed flat against the cold, solid wood and her thumb traced the grain visible through the dark paint. There was a faint hum in there air much like the one when she saw the phantom man, and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Hello?” She whispered, and she felt a stillness settle deep into her bones. There was a pause, and she saw the light beneath the door flicker hesitantly. Her right palm slid down the doorway, and cradled the golden serpent knob in the palm of her hand. “Hello?” She called out, louder this time and her voice more clear. 

Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt the door handle shift, and not of her own volition. It was as if someone was holding the door knob from the other side, and hesitated to open it. 

“So you haven’t been in the meetings, big deal! You’ve still been here, haven’t you? You’ve still been here, haven’t you? Me, I’ve been stuck at the Dursley for a month!” Harry shouted, his anger no longer able to be contained. “Who saved the Sorcerer’s Stone? Who got rid of Riddle? Who saved both your skins from the dementors?” 

Asher jumped at the sound of her brother’s dulcet tones that shook the entire house, and she twisted her head away from the door. She saw Magnus standing there, with an unhappy look on his face as he glanced sideways at the room the Golden Trio stood in. Asher blinked, feeling as though she had just come out of some kind of daze. She twisted her head back towards the door, but the light was gone. Extinguished in the blink of eye, and she pulled back with a light frown on her face. 

Asher stared at the door for a moment longer until Harry’s shouting reached a fever pitch, and with a strange lump in her throat, she turned away. She jogged down the hallway until she reached Magnus’s side, the dog grumbling unhappily at all the noise. Twisting her head, she peered inside of the room to see her brother pacing the length of the floor. His face twisted with resentment and anger, there was a dark shadow that passed through his emerald eyes. Asher felt the cold sensation of fear swept down her spine, and in that moment she did not know if it was _for_ her brother or _of_ him. 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/6fee77064fe4c5a9badec6a7e152797b_zpsik48g6it.png.html)

“Dumbldedore made us swear we wouldn’t tell either you anything,” Hermione stated, pained. Her hazel stared up earnestly at Harry’s face, but Harry just kept his attention on Hedwig. The snowy owl clicked her beak, and nibbled on his ear in reprimand because she had not liked the noise one bit. Harry stroked her feathers apologetically. 

“You have no idea what it was like sitting there. We were stuck in Privet Drive and we had no idea what was going on,” Harry spoke, his voice starting barely more than a whisper. “Knowing even a little would have been better than being kept in the dark and knowing nothing at all. The helplessness, left to pace in a room just hoping that nothing had happened to anyone I cared about!” 

“We wanted to give answers to you,” said Ron. “Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you’d do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us—” 

“—swear not to tell us,” Harry spat. “I heard it when Hermione it said it.” 

Asher saw every bitter and resentful thought that Harry had in the last month well up inside his eyes, and she clenched her eyes shut. _Detonation time,_ she thought, pinching the bridge of her nose in mute frustration. 

“So you haven’t been in the meetings, big deal! You’ve still been here, haven’t you? You’ve still been here, haven’t you? Me, I’ve been stuck at the Dursley for a month!” Harry shouted, his anger no longer able to be contained. “Who saved the Sorcerer’s Stone? Who got rid of Riddle? Who saved both your skins from the dementors?” 

Asher heart jolted in her chest, and she felt her magic spike in alarm. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off on top of the wardrobe while Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm, zooming even faster around their heads. Magnus let out a low guttural growl, shifting on his haunches nervously. 

“Who had to get past dragons and sphinxes and every other foul thing last year? Who saw him come back? Who had to escape from him? ME!” 

Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, while Hermione looked on the verge of tears. 

“BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING?” Harry shouted. 

“Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—” Hermione began. 

“CAN’T’VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU’D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT _DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR—”_

“Harry, enough!” Asher screamed back. Her fingers were clenched into tight fists, and her face blanched white. Her dark hazel eyes flared gold, and her breaths were sharp. “You need to calm down! Now!” 

Harry gritted his teeth together, glaring. 

Silence reigned through the room for several moment, and Asher took desperate gulps of air to calm the rapid beating of her heart. She clenched and unclenched her fists at her side, and shot her brother a veiled look through her strands of her hair. Asher was unsurprised by his outbrust. It had been festering since the end of last year, and she was honestly more surprised that he managed to keep it bottle up for so long. With a heavy sigh, she stepped into the room and pinned her brother with a look. “Are you done?” She asked, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. 

“I haven’t even started,” Harry bit out. 

“Too bad,” Asher said, just as harshly. It was time for tough love. “You had your say. Very loudly, I might add. I am upset with Hermione and Ron also, but screaming while it might make you feel good for a second—for the briefest of seconds—isn’t going to solve anything.” 

Harry let out a deep breath, and turned away from them. A heat clawed up his face, and he knew deep down in his heart beneath all the anger that Asher had a point. He turned away from them, not being able to bear their stares any longer. 

Asher let out a ragged breath, and dragged her fingers down her face before she fixated her brother with a severe look. “You are not alone,” Asher told him, sternly. “In case you haven’t forgotten, I’ve been with you through a lot. I have been through thick and thin with you, and so have they. We may not have always been there physically, but we’ve been there in ways that counted. And as much as you don’t like the secrecy, it does not give you the right to treat anyone like this.” 

Hedwig hooted glumly in agreement. Magnus barked, unhappily at Harry as he paced a protective circle around Asher. 

There was a long pause, broken only by the mournful creak of the floorboards below Harry’s feet. A line of tension ran along his shoulders and he awkward moved about. He could feel the need to apology on the back of his tongue, and he shoved it away. He’d apologize, just not right now. “What is this place anyway?” he shot at Ron and Hermione. 

“Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” said Ron at once. 

“And that is? No one exactly gave us the run down when got here,” Asher tried to keep her tone light, feeling as if she were walking on a tight rope. She didn’t want to touch on something that would set off Harry again, she honestly did not have the energy to play peacekeeper again. It felt like all her energy had been sapped out of her leaving her utterly tired. If an argument ensued once more, she would let Magnus have at them. 

“It’s a secret society,” said Hermione quickly. “Dumbledore’s in charge, he founded it. It’s the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time.” 

She supposed it would be have to be secret. Last time Voldemort inspired such fear that if any dared to speak out against him they would soon find themselves ushered to the grave by his Death Eaters. She had read up on Voldemort’s reign of terror ever since she first his name off of Hagrid’s lips. Perhaps it was just the Ravenclaw in her hungering for knowledge. Or perhaps, she was searching for a reason for her parents’ deaths. A reason that would somehow make it okay, and not leave an emptiness inside of her. 

“I suppose it makes sense that Dumbledore would bring them all back together,” Asher commented, trying to keep her tone even. The had been a warmth that flared inside of her at the sight of her two friends, to know that they were all together again like a family should be but it was fading quickly. Tension heightened making the air heavy and thick. She could feel the waves of frustration coming off Harry, if he were not careful he could end up doing a bout of accidental magic just like he did with Aunt Marge. “Alright. We’re just talking ourselves in circles here, I can feel it. Look, simply put…we were worried. We are cut off from the entire wizarding world when we are the Dursleys, and the dementor attack rattled us.” 

“You shouldn’t have gone through that,” Hermione said, a great lump in her throat. “Dumbledore had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time—” 

“Oh, great. So we have other stalkers besides that stinky fellow from the other day?” Asher felt her guts twisted violently. A seething and churning sensation that only grew with each passing second. “Well, obviously, he needs better help because it didn’t work well, did it?” 

“He was so angry,” said Ron in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.” 

“Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left Asher and I at Privet Drive all summer.” 

“Aren’t you…aren’t you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?” said Hermione quietly. She was worried. Hogwarts just wasn’t Hogwarts without Harry there, and she couldn’t even imagine going if he didn’t. 

“No,” Harry said defiantly. 

Asher could see through that lie with ease. No matter how angry at his friends or Dumbledore he was right now, Hogwarts was home. They’d both be lost without it. She walked across the dark grey wood floors. The room was dank and dark and gloomy as could be. A blank stretch of canvas in an ornate picture frame was all that relieved the bareness of the peeling walls and as Asher passed it, she could have swore she heard someone snigger. _Great. Seeing things and now hearing them,_ she thought with a twist of her lips. 

“Does it matter now?” Asher asked him, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “We can’t go back, so why don’t we focus on the present, hmm? What _can_ you tell us?” 

“We don’t know,” Ron shook his head. “Mum won’t let us near the meetings, she says we’re too young. She won’t even let Fred or Georgie in.” 

Little Pigwidgeon twittered, still quite upset over all the shouting. For some reason he decided to land upon Magnus’s head, not that the dog minded. As soon as the dog was satisfied that the shouting was over, he fell asleep and was snoring like a freight train. “Who’s animal is that?” Hermione stared at the dog, worriedly. She didn’t think that Crookshanks was going to like him at all. 

“He’s mine,” Asher said, defensively. 

“Oh.” Was all Hermione said. 

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, running both his hands down his face. He swallowed back his frothing rage, and paced for a moment. “What’s happening? What’s he up to? Where is he? What are we doing to stop him?” 

“We’ve _told_ you, the Order don’t let us in on their meetings,” said Hermione nervously. “So we don’t know the details—but we’ve got a general idea—” she added hastily, seeing the look on Harry’s face. 

“Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see,” said Ron. “They’re really useful.” 

“Oh, they got them working, did they?” Asher asked, with a half grin. 

“Yeah. Only we’ve had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realized what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know—” Ron started the explanation, hoping it would somehow placate his friend. 

“—some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order—” continued Hermione, with a sharp nod. 

“Unfortunately, Voldemort is probably doing the same,” Asher commented, drolly. When three pairs of eyes swung to her, she blinked. “What? If I was an evil maniacal wizard that had been gone for more than a decade, the first thing I would do is to gather up what forces were still loyal, send them out to gather intelligence and followers.” 

“I don’t know which is more disturbing,” Hermione stated, her eyes narrowed slightly. “The fact that you have actually put that much thought into the mind of a Dark Lord that, or the fact is makes a disturbing amount of sense.” 

“Why not both?” Ron asked. 

“You have to know your enemy as well as you know yourself,” Asher said, simply. 

Harry narrowed her eyes on his sister. That nagging feeling back again, like he had missed something. There was a change in Asher, and it was more than maturity. There was a look in her eyes, one that reminded him of Sirius the first time he met him. Shadows of pain and suffering and that left a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. What the hell happened with his sister? And why hadn’t he seen it happening? 

Asher ran her fingers through her hair, stifling a yawn. The flight here had taken it‘s toll, and all the energy was sapped right out of her. She settled on the end of the bed, and Magnus butted his head against her leg before he flopped down at her feet, satisfied that the shouting was now over. She stared at the walls that looked less than welcoming before she inquired, “Your families are okay? Everyone is fine?” 

Hermione nodded. “My parents are out the country on their second honeymoon. They are taking a roadtrip through America, so…they are safe.” _For now,_ had been left unsaid. 

“What about you, Ron?” Asher turned to the redhead. 

“We’re all good. Everyone’s here,” he said, then a grimaced flashed through his face. “Almost everyone.” 

Harry tapped his foot, a tad impatiently against the floor. At dinner, he might have a chance to question Sirius about Voldermort’s activities. “So what have you two been doing, if you’re not allowed in meetings?” he demanded. “You said you’d been busy.” 

“We have,” said Hermione, giving him a flat look. She crossed her arms over her chest and sat down on the bed beside Asher. “We’ve been decontaminating this house, it’s been empty for ages and you don’t want to know the things that have been breeding in here. We’ve managed to clean out the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley just couldn’t take cooking in there until it was scrubbed from top to bottom. We have cleaned most of the bedrooms, and I think we’re doing the drawing room tomorrow.” 

“Speaking of this house,” Asher said, slowly. The image of the man and the door still swirled around in her mind. She had been around ghosts before, and this had been nothing like it. However, she didn’t know how to rule it out. “Is it haunted?” 

Hermione frowned at her. “We haven’t seen any ghosts, and Sirius never made mentio—AARGH!” 

With two loud cracks, Fred and George, Ron’s elder twin brothers and mischief makers extraordinaire, had materialized out of thin air in the middle of the room. Magnus jumped up with a howl, pulled out of a rather happy dream of chasing a cat by the noise while Pigwidgeon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to join Hedwig on top of the wardrobe. 

“Stop _doing_ that!” Hermione said weakly to the twins, who were as vividly red-haired as Ron, though stockier and slightly shorter. 

“Hello, Harry,” said George, beaming at the Boy-Who-Live. “We thought we heard your dulcet tones.” 

“You don’t want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out,” said Fred, also beaming. They were like two red headed balls of sunshine which only could mean they were up to something. “There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn’t hear you.” 

“What are you? His therapist?” Asher asked, amused. 

“A therapist?” George looked offended. “As if we would ever be…” 

“Caught doing something so dull,” Fred finished with a sniff, holding some kind of flesh colored string between his fingers idly. “We have far greater…” 

“And mischievous goals in mind,” Georgie smirked. 

Asher giggled. “Oh, I have missed you two.” With a wicked twinkle in her eye, she looked at the pair as a big Cheshire grin stretched across her face. “So what _mischief_ have to _managed_ this summer?” 

Hermione and Harry sighed a the pun, while the Weasely twins looked positively delighted by it. It took Ron a moment to get what she meant before he let out a chuckle. “Now that would be telling,” Fred told her, mysteriously. “When you have a moment alone without inquiring ears—” 

“Particularly a certain Miss Granger’s,” George cut in. 

“We will tell you,” Fred said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione glared. 

“They just don’t want to get into trouble, that’s what it means,” Ron said, with a snort of laughter. “Mom’s already been yelling their ears off. Anymore and they might actually fall off.” 

“How kind of you to remind us, dear brother,” Fred and George said, in perfect sync. While Asher and Harry had a great bond, it was nothing like the Weasley twins. Sometimes, she wondered if they weren’t just the same person just split into two separate bodies. 

Harry felt himself smile slightly at the twins antics. “So…uh, you two passed your Apparation tests, then?” He asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from his outburst. 

“Of course, we did!” George said. 

“Was there ever any doubt?” Fred commented. 

“Was that a serious question?” Asher chuckled. 

“You wound us, Miss Potter!” George declared, dramatically. He pretended to sway and leaned on Fred to support him as he was physical struck by her words. 

“Ah, my ginger haired drama queens,” Asher grinned at the affronted looks at their faces at the nickname, “I have truly missed you.” 

“Of course, you did,” Fred said, as it were the most obvious thing in the whole wide world. 

“Who wouldn’t miss us?” George asked, blinking. 

Hermione shot them a dry look. “Are we meant to answer that?” She asked, biting back a smirk. 

“Well, if you aren’t going to appreciate us,” George said, airily. “We can take…” 

“Our Extendable Ears with us, and go,” Fred said, with a nonchalantly roll of his shoulders. 

“Wait!” Harry said, quickly. “What have you heard?” 

Fred started after he and George shared a triumphant grin. “We heard something about Hagrid. He’s out doing something important.” 

Asher gave them a look. “Can you be anymore specific?” 

“Sadly, no,” Fred said, sheepishly. “About the time that started to get into the specifics…” His eyes glanced over at Harry, who blushed. 

“Ah.” Asher said, repressing a smile. 

“Yelling tends to interfere with the Extendable Ears reception,” George said, with a smidge of regret before it was gone. A wicked little grin appeared on his face. “We were pleasantly surprised though.” 

“Its usually our mom that is yelling,” Fred laughed. 

“Only because you spy on the meetings,” Hermione scolded them. 

“It’s worth the risk, that’s a major meeting they’re having,” said Fred. “Besides, I don’t hearing you complain when we tell you what is going on.” 

“Which is next to nothing,” Ron retorted. 

Before the twins and Ron could start to bicker (or worse get into a wrestling match), the door opened and a long mane of red hair appeared. “Harry! Asher!” said Ron’s younger sister, Ginny, brightly. “I can’t believe you are both finally here. We’ve been bugging mom since we first arrived about when they were finally going to get you.” Turning to Fred and George, she said, “It’s no go with the Extendable Ears, she’s gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.” 

“How d’you know?” said George, looking crestfallen. 

“Tonks told me how to find out,” said Ginny. “You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can’t make contact the door’s been Imperturbed. I’ve been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there’s no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap.” 

Fred heaved a deep sigh. “Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape’s been up to.” 

“Snape?” Asher made a face. Snape was not her favorite teacher. He wasn’t her least favorite. Those would be the ones who tried to kill her brother, and everyone else. Still, the student-teacher relationship was like walking through a swamp infested with crocodiles at best and Asher had no desire to run into the Potion Master. 

“He’s here?” Harry wrinkled his nose. 

“Yeah,” said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. “Giving a report. Top secret.” 

“Git,” said Fred idly. “We were really hoping to hear what that was all about, but sadly…” The twins sighed in unison, and looked like Christmas had been canceled. 

“He’s on our side now,” said Hermione reprovingly. 

Ron snorted. “Doesn’t stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us…” 

“Bill doesn’t like him either,” said Ginny, with a wry grin. “And Bill usually can get along with anyone.” 

Asher blinked. “Bill was here? I thought he was working in Egypt,” she questioned, her head tilted to the side as she sat down on the ground. Magnus grunted, rolling his head onto her lap. Somehow without dislodging the tiny owl that had made the dog’s head its bed. 

“He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order,” said Fred. “He says he misses the tombs, but,” he smirked, “there are compensations…” 

“What d’you mean?” Harry asked. 

“Remember old Fleur Delacour?” said George. “She’s got a job at Gringotts to _eemprove ’er Eeenglish—”_

“—and Bill’s been giving her a lot of private lessons,” sniggered Fred. 

“Oh,” Asher smiled, with a small laugh. Fleur Delacour was very, very pretty and known for being a bit of an Ice Princess. She believed there was more to the blond than most gave her credit for. “Good for him. With everything that’s going on, we should take our happiness where we can.” 

Ginny made a face, but didn’t say anything. 

“Charlie’s in the Order too,” said George, “but he’s still in Romania, Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie’s trying to make contacts on his days off.” 

“Couldn’t Percy do that?” Harry asked. The last he had heard, the third Weasley brother was working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic. 

At these words all the Weasleys and Hermione exchanged darkly significant looks. Asher sat up a little straighter, and Magnus opened his eyes halfway, asking her silently why he disturbed him. “What happened?” She asked, worriedly. Her fingers scratched the dog’s ear just how he liked it. 

“Just…” Ron sighed, a defeated look to his posture. “Whatever you do, don’t mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad.” 

“Why not?” Harry’s eyes flickered between them all. 

“Because every time Percy’s name’s mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he’s holding and Mum starts crying,” Fred said, an edge to his voice and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. 

“It’s been awful,” said Ginny sadly. 

“I think we’re well shut of him,” said George with an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face. 

“Percy did something stupid, didn’t he?” Asher asked, not truly surprised. He had always seemed to have something against his parents, as if he didn’t think they were good enough. It raised her hackles like no other. She would give almost anything for a family like the Weasleys, to be loved and cherished. 

“Percy and Dad had a row,” said Fred, as if he is still stunned by it. “I’ve never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It’s normally Mum who shouts…” 

“It was the first week back after term ended,” said Ron. “We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he’d been promoted.” 

“You’re kidding?” said Harry. 

“What convenient timing,” Asher said, sourly. She had known Percy was highly ambitious, and that wasn’t an entirely bad thing. However, Percy had not made a great success of his first job at the Ministry of Magic. An oversight in not realizing his boss was being controlled by a Dark Lord, but the Ministry obviously had no believed that. They simply thought Crouch had gone insane. 

“Yeah, we were all surprised,” said George, “because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn’t going to complain…” 

“So how come they promoted him?” Harry asked. 

“A warning, perhaps?” Asher tunneled her fingers through her hair. “That you and who you have surrounded yourself with are not out of the ministry’s grasp? That they can have eyes on you if they want to? It could be several reason, but it’s definitely a message to you.” 

Harry grunted. “That’s a disturbing thought.” 

Ron looked at his siblings, and started to explain. “He came home really pleased with himself—even more pleased than usual if you can imagine that—and told Dad he’d been offered a position in Fudge’s own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts—Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think.” 

“Only Dad wasn’t,” said Fred grimly. 

“I imagine not,” Asher said, with a smile that wasn’t one. “With the way Fudge reacted at the news of Dark Lord’s return, I can’t imagine that he’s been going around singing sonnets about the Boy-Who-Lived. Sorry, Harry.” 

“It’s probably true,” Harry shrugged, slightly. 

“It is true. Ever since the fallout from the tournament, Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody’s having any contact with Dumbledore,” said George, with a disgusted shake of his head. 

“Dumbledore’s name’s mud with the Ministry these days, see,” said Fred. “They all think he’s just making trouble saying You-Know-Who’s back.” 

“Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who’s in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks,” said George. 

“I can’t believe that they would be so blind,” Asher shook her head. Anger boiled underneath her skin like red hot needles, and she made a noise of rage in the back of her throat. “Is Fudge such a spineless coward that he would rather stay in his ’blissful’ ignorance rather than the fact that we are at war? That good people are going to die?” Images of blood running across cobblestone streets emerged forth in her mind, and screams echoed in her ears. “That men, women and children are going to die and that their blood will be on his hands as surely as it is Voldermort’s? It’s disgusting.” 

It was only after all that spewed out of her mouth that she realized that how vehemently and venomously she had sounded. Her cheeks turned red when she saw everyone staring at her in surprise, and the boiling rage that had burned within his simmered down into nothing. “What?” She said, defensively. “All you were thinking it.” 

Fred and George snickered. Ginny wore a smirk of approval while Ron and Hermione stared at her like she had grown another head. She didn’t look at Harry, not wanting to see what he was thinking. She drew in a deep breath, and told herself, _They don’t know what you’ve been through. They won’t understand why you’ve changed. You need to tone it down, or they are going to think you’re crazy._

“Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he’s friendly with Dumbledore,” Ron took over the conversation. “And he’s always thought Dad’s a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family—and Dumbledore. Just like Asher said.” 

“Politicians,” Hermione muttered, under her breath much to Harry’s amusement. Hermione usually respected authority of all kinds. It nice to see that she was no longer so enchanted with the wizarding world that she couldn’t see its fault. 

“Bet Percy loved that,” Harry said. 

Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way. “He went completely berserk. He said — well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he’s been having to struggle against Dad’s lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad’s got no ambition and that’s why we’ve always been—you know—not had a lot of money, I mean—” 

_“What?”_ said Harry in disbelief, as Ginny made a noise like an angry cat. 

“That asshole!” Asher cursed. 

“Asher,” Hermione reprimanded. 

“But he is!” Asher glared. 

“I know,” agree Ron, with a nod. “And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he—Percy—knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn’t belong to our family anymore. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He’s living here in London now.” 

Asher muttered unflattering things underneath her breath. Things that she would do when Percy’s path crossed hers, and what state she would leave him in. 

“Mum’s been in a right state,” said Ron. “You know— crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he slammed the door in her face. I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work—ignores him, I s’pose.” 

That explained Mrs. Weasley’s state. Asher had been initially worried that she had been sick, and in way she was sick. It was the sickness of a broken heart. Her hands clenched at her side, and her expression wasn’t nice if Ginny scooting away from her was any indication. 

“But Percy _must_ know Voldemort’s back,” said Harry slowly. “He’s not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn’t risk everything without proof—” 

“Maybe the pole up his arse got lodge in his brain,” Asher hissed. You just didn’t abandon family. She had fought with everything she had to get back to hers. To piece herself back together and get back to hers. Only someone completely selfish threw their family away for the reasons Percy did. 

“That was actually a good one.” Fred perked up, and looked Georgie. “How come we didn’t think of it, Forge?” 

“I don’t know, Gred,” George frowned. “Are we losing our touch?” Then they both laughed, and said together, “Never.” 

“Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row,” said Ron, shooting Harry a furtive look. “Percy said the only evidence was your word and…I dunno…he didn’t think it was good enough.” 

“Percy takes the _Daily Prophet_ seriously,” said Hermione tartly, and the others all nodded. At the blank looks from the Potter twins, Hermione asked, nervously. “Haven’t—haven’t you been getting the _Daily Prophet_?” 

“Yeah, I have!” said Harry. “Have you—er—either of you been reading it thoroughly?” Hermione asked still more anxiously. 

Asher rolled her shoulder. “I stopped relying on the _Daily Prophet_ after fourth year and the trash printed by Rita Skeeter,” she said, with a concerned frown. “Harry?” 

“Not cover to cover,” said Harry defensively. “If they were going to report anything about Voldemort it would be headline news, wouldn’t it!” 

The others flinched at the sound of the name. Hermione hurried on, “Well, you’d need to read it cover to cover to pick it up, but they—um—they mention you a couple of times a week.” 

“But I’d have seen—” Harry blinked. 

“Not if you’ve only been reading the front page, you wouldn’t,” said Hermione, shaking her head. “I’m not talking about big articles. They just slip you in, like you’re a standing joke. It’s quite nasty, actually,” said Hermione in a voice of forced calm. Her cheeks, though, turned red with anger on his behalf and her hands clenched into fists. 

“They’re just building on Rita’s stuff.” 

“But she’s not writing for them anymore, is she?” Asher narrowed her eyes. If so, Asher had some revenge planned for a long time that she would be eager to get to. _Hello, conveniently misplaced anger._

“Oh no, she’s kept her promise—not that she’s got any choice,” Hermione added with satisfaction. “But she laid the foundation for what they’re trying to do now.” 

_Well, that took the wind out of my sails._ Asher thought, her shoulders slumped and shook her head. “So…we can assume from what Rita wrote that was not flattering in the slightest that they are making Harry out to be some deluded, attention-seeking person who wants to the next great tragic hero, or victim. Is that a fair assumption?” 

“Really? I am not a tragic hero!” Harry gaped, when all his friends winced at Asher’s words. “Or a victim,” he added, with a slight glare at his sister. 

“Asher hit the nail on the head I am afraid. They keep slipping in snide comments about you. If some far-fetched story appears they say something like ‘a tale worthy of Harry Potter’ and if anyone has a funny accident or anything it’s ‘let’s hope he hasn’t got a scar on his forehead or we’ll be asked to worship him next—’” 

“I don’t want anyone to worship—” Harry began hotly. 

“I know you don’t,” said Hermione quickly, trying to appease him. “I _know,_ Harry. But you see what they’re doing? They want to turn you into someone nobody will believe. Fudge is behind it, I’ll bet anything. They want wizards on the street to think you’re just some stupid boy who’s a bit of a joke, who tells ridiculous tall stories because he loves being famous and wants to keep it going.” 

Asher felt like a knife had been lodged in her heart, and she let out a shaky breath. Her nails broke into the tender flesh of her palm, her fists were clenched so tightly. She saw the horror flash across Harry’s face, quickly followed by anger. “I didn’t ask—I didn’t want— _Voldemort killed my parents! He killed our parents,_ ” the words sounded as if they were ripped from his throat. His green eyes met his sister’s, and she looked at him sadly. 

Hermione looked down at the ground before she walked over to Harry’s side. She slipped her fingers through his and held tight. 

Harry took a deep breath. “I got famous because he murdered my parents but couldn’t kill me! Who wants to be famous for that? Don’t they think I’d rather it’d never—” 

“We _know,_ Harry,” Hermione whispered, softly. 

It was no surprise that the Ministry were not the saints they claimed to be, no one ever was squeaky clean and there were skeletons in every closest. However, to openly attack Harry like this was borderline on desperation. Did no see the dark times coming? Could they feel it in their bones like she did? Like an ache of wound could tell of an oncoming storm, surely the people could not be this blind? Asher raked her tongue across the back of her teeth in frustration. “This is slander,” Asher stated, pointing a finger down at the Daily Prophet. “Can’t we do anything about it?” 

“Look…I know that this situation seems bad,” Hermione began, but cut off at Harry’s snort. 

“Seems bad?” Harry arched a brow. 

Hermione cheeks turned pink. “Alright. It’s bad. With the constant attacks on your character then the fact that didn’t report a word about the dementors attacking…” 

“They are biding their time. Hoping he gets expelled,” Asher stated, pinching the bridge of her nose. She could feel the headache building behind her eyes, and wondered if they had any Pepper-Up potions in stock here. “The law is on Harry’s side, but I wouldn’t put it past them to do something underhanded to tip the odds in their favor.” 

Before a change in subject could begin, footsteps up the stairs could be heard. “Uh-oh,” Fred and George quickly hid whatever Extendable Ears they had on them, then with a loud crack, they vanished. Only a second later, Mrs. Weasley tugged open the bedroom doorway. 

She smiled at them. “The meeting’s over, you can come down and have dinner now, everyone’s dying to see you two. And who’s left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?” She asked, her voice taking on her no-nonsense tone. 

“Crookshanks,” said Ginny without so much as batting an eyelash. “He loves playing with them.” 

“Oh,” said Mrs. Weasley, “I thought it might have been Kreacher, he keeps doing odd things like that. Now don’t forget to keep your voices down in the hall. Ginny, your hands are filthy, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please.” 

Ginny grimaced, and Asher had to bit back a laugh at the disgruntled redhead who followed her mother obediently out the door. Raising her dark gaze, she saw the Golden Trio standing there not sure what to do. Hermione and Ron looked half worried Harry was about to start yelling at them again, while Harry looked unsure if now was the right to apologize. “So…who’s hungry?” Asher clapped her hands together. 

Magnus was on his feet in the blink of an eye, and barked in agreement. The tension was instantly dissolved (at least, for now) as the four of them laughed at the dog’s antics. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter because I hated how Ron and Hermione just took Harry’s yelling. I wanted Asher to understand his anger, but to point out that he is not as alone as he thinks. I always wanted to set up the dynamics for Harry and Hermione’s relationship, before laying the ground work for Ginny/Neville and Ron/Luna in later chapters. This chapter really set up the divergence from cannon, and next chapter is going to be all Asher. What she is thinking and feeling, where she really takes over the story.
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: Asher searched for answers to the mystery man, and considers confiding the truth in someone. Harry gets answers to some of his questions, and shares his worry for Asher with Hermione.  
> Who Do You Think Is The Mystery Man? The reviewer who guesses the answer correctly, gets to name the next chapter title. 
> 
>  
> 
> Read and review! All appreciated and answered. :D


	4. Can You See Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I wrote it twice, and my first computer's hard drive died. Wrote it again, and that computer got a virius on it that apparently had been hiding on it. So I'm on my third old computer that I have like four different antivirus programs on it, so crossing my fingers that everything continues to go smoothly until I get my brand new one.
> 
> Thanks you SiobhansPassion, the_badwolf, ronnieangell, Vortex_With_An_End, and livlifembleming as well as 2 guests who gave my story kudos! And a special thanks to those who left comments, I appreciate it. :D

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CHAPTER FOUR 

“Can You See Me?” 

* * *

Asher had not anticipated how much it would wear on her, to sit around everyone at the dining table and plaster a smile on the face while on the inside a guilt gnawed at her like none other than before. She was _lying_ to the people she cared most about, and part of her wondered if it was the right thing. Perhaps she should just come clean? But then everyone would worry, and they had plenty enough to worry about. At least, that’s what she told herself when the truth built up on the back of her tongue. She would come clean, _eventually._ Once she had everything under control, and a firm plan ahead of her of what do with her predicament. That way everything would be handle, and no one needed to worry about a thing. 

Asher tapped her fingertips against the table, nervously. She took in the room around her, and it was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above. It was a cavernous like room with rough stone walls where most of the light was coming from a large fire at the end of the room. A haze of smoke hung in the air, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy pots and pangs hanging from the dark ceiling about. Many chairs had been crammed to fit the space, and they were all seated around a long wooden table in the middle of the room. 

Mrs. Weasley had gathered up the parchment off the table when Harry had tried to not so successfully sneak at peek and them, and chastised Bill for not putting them away. Remus vanished the empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags before he took a seat on her right. 

_God, I want a smoke and I don’t even smoke!_ Asher thought, grumpily. Must be a nasty habit she had picked up form one of her half lives. Her eyes flickered to a sullen looking Harry who sat down beside Hermione, while Ron was about four seats down stuck between Tonks and his sister. As they made their way down from their room only moments ago, the group had tried to listen in on as the Order members filed out. Sadly there was nothing to be overheard, and the only thing that lifted their spirits was the fact that Snape had not stayed for dinner. 

Sirius sat at the very end of the table, directly to Asher’s left. His hand ran along his chin, and his blue eyes looked lost in thought as much as Asher felt. 

“So…Sirius, that crazy yelling portrait in the walk way?” Asher commented, trying to fill the silence as Mrs. Weasley went to finish up the last of dinner. Magnus laid down at her feet, leaning against her ankles gently. “That’s your mother?” 

My dear old mum, yeah,” said Sirius, a sardonic tone to his voice. “We’ve been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas.” 

“Sure you aren’t adopted?” Asher quirked up an eyebrow and offered him a small smile. It was obvious his family was a subject that Sirius had little to no desire to speak about, and from what she heard of the Black Family, she understood why. 

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “If only,” he said, with a heavy sigh. “Sadly, she and I share the wretched blood. No matter how much we both wish it were not so,” he added, quietly like an afterthought. 

Harry looked at his godfather bewildered. “But what’s a portrait of your mother doing here?” Harry asked, with a tilt of his head. 

“Hasn’t anyone told you? This was my parents’ house,” said Sirius. “But I’m the last Black left, so it’s mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters—about the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” 

There was a bitter quality to Sirius’s tone of voice, and Asher immediately felt a swell of pity in her chest. Just like Harry, Sirius had been no doubt locked up and out of sight since Voldermort’s return. “I figured that this was your family’s house,” Asher said, trying to lift the mood and shot her brother a look of smug superiority. 

Harry did the mature thing and stuck out his tongue at her. Ron snickered while Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them. 

“The ambiance tip you off, did it?” Sirius flashed a quick grin. He scratched at his beard, and glanced around the room. “The décor does seem to scream ‘pureblood supremacists and Dark Lord supports live here’, doesn’t it? Perhaps a new paint job would change it? Something in pink?” He almost laughed at the idea for his mother would be rolling in her grave if he redecorated the house in such a way. 

Asher smirked. “With little ribbons and glitter?” 

“Depends,” Sirius hummed, as if really considering it. “They would have to be in red and gold. Colors as far away from Slytherin silver and green as you can get.” 

Remus shook his head in amusement. “It would be a vast improvement,” the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher stated, with a wan smile on his lips. He looked tired and exhausted which was mostly likely from the full moon being only a few days ago. 

“The house elves heads mounted on the walls doesn’t exactly help, either. Something would have to be done about those,” Harry smirked, slightly. 

“No kidding,” Asher snorted, then she gave Sirius a speculative glance. “Though while we are on the subject, I do have a question, Sirius. The house elves heads on the wall?” She wiggled her fingers towards the doorway that led to said landing. “Tradition or decoration?” 

“Does it matter?” Hermione spoke up, horrified. A shiver never failed to run down her spine whenever she passed the house elves heads on the wall, and it only made her stance about S.P.E.W. all that firmer. 

“If it’s a tradition—no matter how creepy—at least, there is some reasoning behind it. If it’s decorative taste, however, that means they were doing it for fun and that just makes even more bizarre and horrifying,” Asher stated, with a slight shudder. 

“It’s tradition,” Sirius said, with a hollow little smile. “The house elves considered it a high honor to have their heads mounted on the wall after years of dutiful service.” 

“Only because they didn’t know any better,” Hermione said, hotly. Her brown eyes lit with the same fire that kept S.P.E.W still going. “We should all treat house elves with respect and kindess to show them that there is another way than the one they've been subjected to for hundreds of year. Even Kreacher deserves that, Sirius. You should treat him better. It’s not his fault that he is the way he is, and being alone in this place certainly hasn’t helped.” 

Sirius’s smile was grim. It was obvious by the flash of annoyance in his eyes that this was argument that Hermione had brought up before. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, flatly. 

Asher hummed underneath her breath, her eyes took in the tension that boiled in that room. The apprehension that crawled underneath her skin, and the weight of her lie seemed to increase tenfold. Who knew that putting on a smile and being surrounded by loved ones would be one of the hardest things she would ever have to do in her life? She certainly hadn't. 

Bill, who still wore his long hair in a ponytail, finally took a seat at the table after putting away the scrolls. He had a charming grin on his face, and his brown eyes flickered towards the Potter twins. "So tell me, did Mad-Eye try to make you come here via Greenland again?" Bill inquired. 

“He tried,” answered Tonks, with a light huff. 

"Via Greenland?" Asher sputtered, going pale. She hated heights, and being on a broom just made it worse. She couldn't imagine being on a broom that long, and grimaced. "Why would we...? Let me guess, something to do with 'constant vigilance'?" 

Tonks laughed, while Moody glowered. "Laugh all you want, it does not lessen the importance of being constantly vigilant. Especially in these times," Moody growled out. "It is better to be safe than sorry. A lesson you all will learn in due time." 

A shadow passed across Asher's feature. _Oh, believe me, I already have,_ she thought rather grimly. Traveling with the Doctor had been a luxury, but a perilous one. Each adventure held a hidden or apparent danger, and most situations had forced her to see the universe from a different perspective. A perspective that saw the lines of black and white, and the ocean of grey swirling in between. 

“What?” She blinked, realizing belatedly that Remus had said her name twice. A slight flush unfurled in her cheeks, and gave him a wan smile. “Sorry, Remus. I had been lost in thought, what did you say?” 

“I had noticed,” Remus smiled, patiently. “I was inquiring what you had been doing over the summer.” 

“Oh, is it my turn for show and tell? Hooray,” Asher said, less enthusiastic than her words implied. The troubling thing about lying was that the constant cover up with more lies. It made bile burn in the back of her throat while she wore a smile on her face. “Nothing much? Other than the dementor attack it’s been…rather subdued? Trying to stay cool from the heat, and avoid the Dursely’s as much as possible.” 

"Asher!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. 

"Oh, come now, Molly," Sirius huffed with laughter. "You can't fault them for not liking to stay there. The Dursleys aren't the best of company, and I can't imagine they were all too happy after the dementors' attack. They didn't give you any grief, did they?" 

"Other than us having to stay to our room? Nope,” Harry replied. "No big deal." 

"Which is pretty tame punishment from them," Asher added, without thought, "all things considered.” 

Remus’s smile dropped, and Sirius’s lips tightened. Molly paused, her eyes darting to meet her husband’s while the rest of the table went silent. 

Harry’s eyes widened, and Asher’s followed a split second later. Neither of them spoke about the abuse they suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. They covered their bruises, hid the emotional wounds behind snark and smiles, and pushed onward. _Great going, Asher. In order to keep one secret you let another slip out,_ she thought, looking down at her plate. Her appetite had all, but vanished. Asher cleared her throat, desperate for a change in conversation. She didn’t want to talk about the Dursleys. That was a wound that had scabbed over nastily, and she had no desire to pick at it right now. "Anyone else that we need to know or be introduced to? Or have we gotten all that out of the way?" Asher asked, her voice light. 

Sirius looked tempted to press the issue, but a look from Remus made him hold his tongue. "You have both met Mundungus, haven’t you?” Sirius took it upon himself to change the subject, but there was something in his eyes that said that this was far from over. 

The pile of rags, or what Asher assumed were rags, gave a snore. Her eyebrows lifted as Mundungus jerked awake, and lifted his face that had been buried in his arms. “Some’n say m’ name?” Mundungus mumbled sleepily. “I ’gree with Sirius...” He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused. 

Asher raised a brow, and frowned. 

“The meeting’s over, Dung,” said Sirius, with a smile. 

“Eh?” said Mundungus, peering balefully at Harry through his matted ginger hair and then he looked over at Asher who wiggled her fingers in a greeting. “Blimey, so ’e ’as. Yeah...you two all right?” 

“Yeah,” said Harry. 

"What he said," Asher said, with disinterest. Mundungus might have some redeeming quality that Dumbledore could see, but from where she stood he was the man who nearly let her brother be killed. No redeeming qualities there. "So I take it Charlie is still in Romania?" She asked, turned towards Bill. 

"Yes," Bill nodded. "He may get to join us around Christmas time, but he sends his regards. He is sorry that he hasn't been able to write, but they've been quite busy. The handlers had to go through training again after that mishap at the tournament." 

"I understand," Asher said, with a small smile. She had found dragons fascinating, and had even at one time thought about pursing a career in taking care of magnificent beasts such as they. Mr. Weasley had offered to write Charlie to see if it was alright if Asher sent him letters with questions, and only a month into her second year did she receive her first letter from Charlie. The two had been writing ever since, and she was one of the few people who knew that Charlie didn't stick around Romania solely for the dragons. He was avoiding his mother who wanted him to settle down, and Charlie had no good way of telling his mother he wasn’t interested in anyone period. Female or otherwise. "I can imagine that they weren't too happy about that. The Ministry probably had something unflattering to say." 

"Don't they always?" Bill chuckled. 

"More so now than ever it seems," Asher grumbled, only half hearing Mundungus fumble with an apology to her brother and her. Out the corner of her eye she saw Tonks offering to help a rather apprehensive looking Mrs. Weasley with dinner, and wondered what that was about. 

"It'll die down," Bill assured. "Hopefully." 

"Oh, it _will_ ," Asher said, firmly. 

Bill's eyebrows darted up to the top of his forehead, and he looked vaguely surprised by the venom in Asher's voice. "You sound certain of that," he commented, with an unsure smile. "Almost like you have a plan. You're planning something, aren't you?" 

"How's the flower?" Was Asher reply, in over sweetly tone of voice. She was the picture of innocent as she smiled up at Bill, but there was mischievousness in her eyes that could not be missed. 

Bill's face fell comically. "Fred and George told you." 

Asher nodded, her grin broad. 

Bill stared at her speculatively for several moments before he cleared his throat. "Keep your secrets then," he told her, as if he was entirely uninterested in what she had planned. "I think I should go help mother with dinner, or we won't eat until midnight." 

Asher watched him with thinly veiled amusement and could hear him mutter under his breath about "brother", "tattletales", and "never telling them anything ever again". She startled slightly when she felt Magnus tense by her leg, and then she caught sight of orange fur dart under the table. "No," she said, firmly and grasped him by the scruff of his neck. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to be a warning. She saw the cat jump into Sirius's lap, and added, "No chasing the kitty cat." 

Magnus whined, but relaxed. When she let him go, he pooled into a furry lump at her feet again, but not without a huff of indigination. 

Sirius scratched the cat absentmindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry and Asher. “Had a good summer so far?” 

“No, it’s been lousy,” said Harry. 

"He's been worry-wart because the lack of letters," Asher said, with a small smirk. 

Harry scowled. "Like you've been any better." 

"True, but I didn't sulk," she snorted. 

"I do not sulk," Harry said, offended. 

"Oh, brother dear," Asher said, reaching over to pat his hand consolingly. She gave him a sad, patronizing look. "You sulk. Your skills at sulking are so impressive that if they gave out awards for it, you would certainly win first prize." 

Harry jerked his hand away, and folded his arms over his chest while giving his twin the evil eye. Asher cackled with amusement, and the dark storm cloud of her head eased away. It was almost easy to slip back into her old life in moments like this, and she knew they were few and far between, so she should treasure them while she could. 

For the first time, something like a grin flitted across Sirius’s face as he watched the twins interaction. His expression was rather wistful. “Don’t know what you two complaining about, myself,” he commented. 

“What?” said Harry incredulously. 

“Personally, I’d have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely," Sirius sighed, looking very put upon. "You think you’ve had it bad, at least you’ve been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights...I’ve been stuck inside for a month.” 

Asher arched a brow. "Yes, because there's nothing like a brush with death to set a wonderful change of pace for a boring summer," she said, sarcastically. Her sarcasm only made Sirius's smirk grow. 

“How come you haven't been let out?” asked Harry, frowning. 

“Because the Ministry of Magic’s still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There’s not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix," Sirius stated, keeping his tone even. His eyes were a dark thundercloud, and his expression sullen. "Or so Dumbledore feels.” 

"So what you are saying at this point...is that you'd find watching paint dry more entertaining than what's been going on?" Asher joked, but there was a serious to her face. Her eyes worried took in the crow's feet around Sirius's eyes, and the tiredness there. She couldn't help, but wonder just how well he was adjusting to life outside of Azkaban. She knew this house while creepy was better than being surrounded by dementors, but a gilded cage was still a cage. 

"That's not far of the mark," Sirius chuckled, darkly. 

“At least you’ve known what’s been going on,” Harry said, bracingly. 

“Oh yeah,” said Sirius sarcastically. “Listening to Snape’s reports, having to take all his snide hints that he’s out there risking his life while I’m sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time...asking me how the cleaning’s going—” 

“What cleaning?” asked Harry. 

“Trying to make this place fit for human habitation,” said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. “No one’s lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he’s gone round the twist, hasn’t cleaned anything in ages. Honestly, I'm not sure what that elf has been up to with his spare time." 

“Sirius?” said Mundungus, who did not appear to have paid any attention to this conversation, but had been minutely examining an empty goblet. “This solid silver, mate?” 

“Yes,” said Sirius, surveying it with distaste. “Finest fifteenth century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest.” 

“That’d come off, though,” muttered Mundungus, polishing it with his cuff. 

Asher repressed a snort when Mrs. Weasley shrieked “Fred—George—NO, JUST CARRY THEM!” 

It happened all in a moment. Everyone had to dive away from the table as a bewitched cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard flew through the air—courtesy of Fred and Georgie. The stew skidded the length of the table, anf left a long, black burn on the wooden surface, but not a drop split. The flagon of butterbeer was not so lucky, and when it crashed to the table's surface, the drink went everywhere. The bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Asher had been sitting seconds before. 

“FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!” screamed Mrs. Weasley. “THERE WAS NO NEED—I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS—JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!” 

“We were just trying to save a bit of time!” said Fred, hurrying forward and wrenching the bread knife out of her seat. “Sorry Asher, we didn’t mean to—” 

Harry and Sirius were both laughing. Mundungus, who had toppled backward off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet. Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from whence his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. Magnus's ears were pointed up and alert while he gave the twins a deep, low warning growl. 

“Boys,” Mr. Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, “your mother’s right, you’re supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you’ve come of age—” 

“—none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!” Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table and spilling almost as much again. “Bill didn’t feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn’t Charm everything he met! Percy—” She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden. 

Asher felt a knot of sympathy well up inside her chest, and she hugged Magnus to her chest. The pain that rippled across the usual jovial Mr. Weasley face, and Mrs. Weasley brought her hand to her lips as if to hold back a sob that threatened to well up inside of her. Asher's teeth gnashed together, and she promised that the next she saw Percy Weasley, she would leave him in a world of hurt. No one hurt her family and got away with it. 

“Let’s eat,” said Bill, quickly. 

“It looks wonderful, Molly,” said Lupin, using his wand to bring the stew cauldron to the center of the table. He grabbed a bowl, and ladling stew into and handing it across the table. "Here." 

Molly blinked back tears, and took the bowl with a small thanks falling from her lips. 

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, there’s something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out.” 

“Whatever you like,” said Sirius indifferently. 

“The curtains in there are full of doxies too,” Mrs. Weasley went on. “I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to it,” said Sirius. 

"Doxies?" Asher made a face. She remembered the troublesome little creatures from first year, and the occasional encounter when sneak around hidden passages in Hogwarts. Their bit was toxic, and hurt like hell. 

"They are everywhere," Mrs. Weasley sighed. 

Ginny and Hermione nodded, with the exact same expression of disgust on their faces. Ron's face just look horrible resigned like a man who awaited the gallows. Asher had a feeling that they had been fighting a never ending battle against to get this house clean. 

Magnus gnawed, happily on a beef bone that Mrs. Weasley had given him. He was the picture of happiness for a dog. Asher chewed thoughtfully on a chunk of meat and potato before she set her spoon down for a moment. Her stomach wasn't used to whole portions of food, so she knew she wouldn't be able to eat the entire bowl without getting sick. Which was a shame because Mrs. Weasley's food was the best. 

"Do that one like a pig snout, Tonks...” Ginny asked. Apparently having Tonks transform her nose at dinner was a nightly occurance as everyone started asking her to do their favorite ones. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Lupin were having an intense discussion about goblins. 

“They’re not giving anything away yet,” said Bill. “I still can’t work out whether they believe he’s back or not. ’Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it.” 

“I’m sure they’d never go over to You-Know-Who,” said Mr. Weasley, shaking his head. “They’ve suffered losses too. Remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?” 

“I think it depends what they’re offered,” said Lupin. “And I’m not talking about gold; if they’re offered freedoms we’ve been denying them for centuries they’re going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?” 

“He’s feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment,” said Bill. “He hasn’t stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those goblins never got their gold from him, you know—” 

"Mind of yours wandering?" Sirius asked her. 

"Only a little," Asher admitted, with a faint smile. "There is a lot going on up there. I'm having trouble sorting it all out to be honest. How have you been? Beyond the boredom?" 

"Better than Azkaban, that's for certain," Sirius said, his voice just loud enough to make it over the gale of laughter from the middle of the table. Mundungus was telling a tale about some toads he sold, which was quickly put to a stop by a cutting remark from Mrs. Weasley. 

For some strange reason Mrs. Weasley shot Sirius a nasty look before she got to her feet and went to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for pudding. Asher's eyebrow climb into her hairline and she shared a look with her brother as if to say, _Did you see that?_

Harry dipped his chin, subtly. 

"What was that look about?" Asher voiced just underneath her breath, and barely moving her lips. 

“Molly doesn’t approve of Mundungus,” said Sirius in a hushed undertone much like Asher's. 

“How come he’s in the Order?” Harry said very quietly. 

“He’s useful,” Sirius muttered. “Knows all the crooks—well, he would, seeing as he’s one himself. But he’s also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don’t. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn’t forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you.” 

"She isn't the only one," Asher commented, dryly. She politely declined the offer for rhubarb crumble and custard from Mrs. Weasely. Her stomach already felt too full from eating only half of the helping of beef stew, and she could see Mrs. Weasley's lecture of her not eating enough right on the tip of the older woman's tongue. However, Mr. Weasley stole her attention away from Asher, and Asher let out a sigh of relief. 

Asher sat there, strokking Magnus's fur with her foot and her arms were folded on the table in front of her. She rested on her chin on her arms, and her eyes were half open. She lazily watched everyone who had become increasingly relaxed, and she wondered if Mrs. Weasley unknowingly put her magic into her food to make it taste so good, and make people happy. Mr. Weasley sat back, content and smiling more than he had since they had gotten here. Tonks was yawning widely, and her nose very much normal. Ginny had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling butterbeer corks for him to chase. 

“Nearly time for bed, I think,” said Mrs. Weasley on a yawn. 

“Not just yet, Molly,” said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. “You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.” 

The name was flipping a switch. Instantly the atmosphere in the room changed and warning zinged up her spine as if she had been stuck by lightning. Her posture straightened as she sat up slowly, and she was now watching everyone like a hawk. 

Mrs. Weasley's face went pale, and her lips thinned. She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched upon its arm, every trace of drowsiness gone. Mr. Weasley looked exhausted as if he had hoped to avoid this fight. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary. All the teenagers perked up at the mention while Harry stared indignantly at Sirius. “I did!” said Harry. “I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so—” 

“And they’re quite right,” said Mrs. Weasley. “You’re too young.” 

“Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?” asked Sirius. “Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen—” 

“Hang on!” interrupted George loudly. 

“How come Harry gets his questions answered?” said Fred angrily. 

“ _We’ve_ been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!” complained George. 

“‘ _You’re too young, you’re not in the Order,’_ ” said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother’s. “Harry’s not even of age!” 

“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,” said Sirius, his voice strained with the effort to remain calm. “That’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand—” 

Asher _hated_ shouting. It brought up unpleasant memories of the Dursleys, and an old fear ignited in her chest against all reason. The first memory she could recall was of Aunt Petunia’s screech followed by Uncle Vernon’s shouting, and how Asher had hid underneath the stairs until it got quiet. She bit the inside of her cheek, and clenched her hands tightly in her lap. She felt Magnus sit up, and lean his body against her leg. She felt his chest rumble with a low growl; he was not happy that his mistress was upset. 

“It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous, and if she had wand in hand it would no doubt be waving it threatening in Sirius's direction. “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?” 

“Which bit?” Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight. His chest puffed up, and his chin raised defiantly. 

“The bit about not telling Harry more than he _needs to know_ ,” said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. 

“I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius, tersely. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back he has more right than most to—” 

“He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” countered Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and—” 

“—and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some—” 

Something inside Asher had pulled tighter and tighter since the argument continued, and she could feel a cold, clammy sweat break out along her skin. A vicious and dark feeling clawed at her heart, egging on the anger that bubbled up beneath her skin. Her magic swirled beneath her skin, and she could feel it burn against the tips of her fingers. 

“No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still—” 

“He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently. 

“He’s not an adult either!” said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. “He’s not _James_ , Sirius!” 

The tight feeling in Asher _snapped._

"Enough!" Asher surged to her feet, and the palm of her hands slammed down on the table with enough force to cause all the plates and cups rattle. Her heart beat was like the roll of thunder against her eardrum, and her breaths were sharp as her lungs felt like had collapsed inside of her chest. Magnus jumped to attention, and watched his mistress for a single if he needed to attack. "Enough out of both of you!" 

Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George’s heads that had been following back and forth from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley swiveled straight on Asher in completely shock. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Asher, slightly wide and his expression stunned. Mrs. Weasley looked like someone told her up was down, and left was right while Sirius could only blink at Asher as if she were a figment of his imagination. Mr. Weasley looked slightly grateful, but no less stunned than the rest of them. 

Asher inhaled wrathfully. The Asher of old would have sit there quietly, and meekly like a silly wallflower. This was not a time for a wallflower, she reminded herself. She curled her fingers until her knuckles were pressed painfully against the top of the table, and she closed her eyes to take a moment to calm herself. Opening her eyes, she lifted her head and glared at Mrs. Weasley and Sirius. "Harry is not a child. Harry is not our father. He is, however, the only one that can stop Voldemort." 

Mrs. Weasley's mouth opened, and closed for several moments. "Asher, dear—" Mrs. Weasley began, after finding her voice. 

Asher just shook her head, sharply. "Mrs. Weasley, you are...the closest thing Harry and I have to a mother. We love you as one," Asher started, quietly. She saw the surprised expression on the older woman's face, and a sheen of tears shine in her eyes. "But despite that...you aren't our mother. I understand that you want Harry to have a childhood just like you want for your own children. To put such worries of war out of their heads, and focus on naive things a bit longer. But Harry doesn't have that luxury here. Maybe in a perfect world..." she trailed off, thinking of how fate had twisted their lives into such tangled messes. None of them would have a normal life, even a normal life for witches and wizards. They would inevitably become soldiers in a bloody war, and forever changed. Asher knew wars all too well. "But the world is not perfect now, is it?" 

The anger that had bubbled to the surface ebbed away, leaving Asher exhausted and cold. Her head drooped, and her eyes were downcast as a heaviness filled her chest. On a sigh, she continued quietly, "Harry is an adult. He may not have the years, but he has the experience. What childhood that wasn't smashed by our aunt and our uncle, was stolen by Voldemort." 

Asher's stomach did a sick flip, and she swallowed thickly. "There is _going_ to be war. It's coming, it is on it's way and it will not stop and wait until we are prepared. It will steam roll right over us if we sit and try to play pretend while the storm is building over our heads." She looked over at her twin, and her heart _hurt_. It felt like it was breaking, and breath shuddered through her. "Harry deserves to know what's going on more than anyone else here because we all know what this war will come down to. All the battles that will be fought, all the lives will be lost on both sides will lead up to Harry facing Voldemort. None of us can do that for him, no matter how much we wish it were so." 

Harry looked at Asher, the impact of her words hit him with full force. He had always known that it would come down to him and Voldemort, in the back of his mind. To have it said so boldly out loud made it real on a level that left his stomach in knots and a chill curl down his spine. This wasn't going to be just another encounter with Voldemort where he fumbled yet somehow saved the day. This war and it would be blood with the Wizarding World and Muggle World caught in the middle. 

Sirius sat back, jaw-slacken. Remus's gaze was shuttered while Mrs. Weasley clutched at her husband shoulder and a hand placed over her heart. Mad-Eye's magical eye was fixated on Asher, and his regular eye narrowed suspiciously. Tonks looked like she rather be anywhere, but here and Bill looked tempted to follow her if she fled. Ron had went pale while Hermione looked like she would burst into tears. Ginny sat there, her lips pressed stubbornly together to stop them from quivering. The feeling in the room had taken a dark turn, and everyone could feel it. 

Asher looked at Harry, and her eyes were filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry," she whispered, knowing that it hurt. It was a cruel truth, but it was a cruel truth that needed to be said, and acknowledged. 

It was several seconds of silence before Remus let out a hefty sigh. “Personally,” said Lupin quietly, looking away from Asher at last, “I think it better that Harry gets the facts—not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture—from us, rather than a garbled version from...others.” 

His expression was mild, but Harry felt sure that Lupin, at least, knew that some Extendable Ears had survived Mrs. Weasley’s purge. 

“Well,” said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and weakly sat down in her chair. Her face had turned ashen at Asher’s words, and she struggled with what to say next. “Well,” Mrs. Weasley’s lower lip trembled, as she wrung her hands together. “Well.” 

Asher felt a ball of guilt well up in the back of throat, and she looked away from the Weasley matriarch in an effort to quell back the tears that gathered in the corner of her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to hurt any of them. Never, but this wouldn’t be last time. In her heart, she knew that this was just the first of many hurts to come and a great deal could end up being dealt by herself. 

Sirius sat down slowly back into his chair, his face white. He looked like he had been stabbed in the gut, and Lupin sighed heavily. “Harry, what is it that you want? You should have a say in this,” Lupin stated, quietly. 

Harry didn’t answer right away. His almond shaped eyes were focused on his sister’s face and the too blank expression there. If it were not for the way the corners of her mouth dipped downward ever so slightly, he would have thought her completely emotionless. Drawing in a breath, his green eyes turned towards Remus. “I want to know what’s been going on,” whispered Harry, his voice more steady than he felt. 

“Very well,” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice cracking. “Ginny—Ron—Hermione—Asher—Fred—George—I want you out of this kitchen, now.” 

Was there a better way to start an uproar? No, there was not. As soon as Mrs. Weasley made her demand, it was like a match to a fuse of TNT. 

“We’re of age!” Fred and George bellowed together. 

“If Harry’s allowed, why can’t I?” shouted Ron. 

“Mum, I _want_ to!” wailed Ginny. 

Asher bit her lower lip so hard it drew blood. Her ears burned as her blood pressure rose, and she clenched her eyes closed tightly. She felt vulnerable, too vulnerable. Her outburst had let them see too much, and she felt so exposed. As if the littlest prodding could undo her, and the yelling was not helping it. It made her feel like a fist was wrapped around her throat, and choking her. 

“NO!” shouted Mrs. Weasley, standing up, her eyes over bright. “I absolutely forbid—” 

“Molly, you can’t stop Fred and George,” said Mr. Weasley wearily. “They are of age—” 

“They’re still at school!” Mrs. Weasley argued. 

“But they’re legally adults now,” said Mr. Weasley in the same tired voice. 

Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face and looked like she had swallowed a lemon. “I—oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron—” 

“Harry’ll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!” said Ron hotly. Then his expression turned less certain, and he looked at his best friend. “Won’t—won’t you?” he added uncertainly, meeting Harry’s eyes. 

“ ’Course I will,” Harry said, after the dark impulse of keeping them in the dark like they had him fled. Ron and Hermione beamed. 

“Fine!” shouted Mrs. Weasley. “Fine! Ginny—BED!” 

Ginny’s cheek flushed, and she was prepared not to go quietly. 

“I’ll go with her,” Asher offered, her voice strained. She needed out of this room. It felt too hot, and her lungs felt too tight. Her head felt lightheaded, and she reached up to wipe away the sweat that had gathered upon her brow. “Harry will tell me about what you all speak about anyways,” she said, thickly. She swallowed, and opened her eyes. “Besides…I’m tired.” 

“You do look a little pale,” Hermione noted, worriedly. 

“It’s be a long day,” Asher shrugged off. “I’m sure I’m not the only one can say that.” 

There was little argument to be had since Asher was willing leaving the room. Mrs. Weasley was all too happy to send Asher off with Ginny, though she—along with a few others—had a concerned look pinned on the Potter girl’s back. As soon as the door shut behind them, Ginny raged and stormed all the way up the stairs. Asher followed at a much subdued pace with Magnus who trotted at her side. 

They came off the stairs to landing, and Asher raised her head to peer down the long hallway. Her heart stopped in her chest when she saw that man—the same man from the dining—walk down the hallway. His long coat swayed behind him, and a top hat in his left hand. He moved his top hat to the crook of his arm as he pulled open that black door. He ducked into the room, but not before he paused upon seeing them at the other end of the hall. He looked straight at Asher with a gimlet stare, and the corner of his mouth tightened. He looked like a storm cloud about to roar to life with lighting and thunder, and Asher for held her breath half believing that he would charge at her. 

In the end, he clenched his jaw and pulled the door shut behind him. Asher exhaled, her entire body shuddered and her eyes darted over to Ginny to the ginger’s reaction. “Ginny? Did you see that?” Asher asked, her voice quaked ever so slightly. 

“See what?” Ginny said, sullenly. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and had been staring down at her feet. She lifted her head, and blinked at Asher. “Blimey…Hermione was right, Asher. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“You didn’t see him?” Asher asked, her stomach pitch. 

“See him? See who?” Ginny said, with a glance down the empty hallway. Her brows furrowed, and her head tilted to the side. “Asher, there’s no one, but us. Who…did you think you saw?” 

Asher didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stared at the door at the end of the hall with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She swore she had seen that same strange man just duck into the room, and shut it soundlessly behind him. The way his eyes had bore into hers had caused her entire heart to squeeze tight as if held in a vice grip, and her arms hugged her midsection. She couldn’t have imagined that, could see? 

“Is this house haunted?” She asked, disquietly. 

“No…not that I know of though given it’s previous owners it wouldn’t surprise me,” the red head blinked, bemusedly. Her brows pinched, and she looked at Asher a little bit worried. “Why? Did you think you saw a ghost?” 

Asher gnawed on her lower lip. “No…no, it’s nothing,” she said, dismissively. She was tired. Her mind could easily be planning tricks on her, but even as she got ready for bed, the excuse did not alleviate the fear. Ghosts were slightly transparent with a bluish glow about them. That man looked like an ordinary man made of flesh and bone, yet she was the only one that could see him. 

She put it as best from her mind as she could, but there was linger sense of paranoia that would not fade. It took her several minutes to finally give into asleep, and it was an uneasy one. It was filled with brief flickers of dreams and memories that spanned decades to millennia. _A soldier in the trenches, caught in the brutal warfare of no man’s land. A bullet that ripped right through his eye socket and he was dead before he hit the ground. A Russian spy who had been selected as a child and taken from her home to be put through the vigor of training for an covert operative. Rose through the ranks and became one of the best only to be put down by her own government. A star traveler who’s ship had been destroyed by pirate vessel, and had been thrown into the vacuum of space to die. A split second of pure agony before everything went black. A healer who had been burnt at the stake as a witch. She could still feel the heat of the flames lick at her flesh._ The list when straggling on until Asher lost all sense of self, and did not know where the fragmented pieces began and she ended. She made a noise in the back of her throat, and she turned over on the bed. Her face pressed down into the pillow as a knot formed in her brow. 

_“How could you betray us?” The voice conjured up a solid image of man. His hair was golden as a lion’s man, and his red cloak splattered with mud and wet by the pouring rain. The silhouette of a castle cast alit by a bolt of lightning, and thunder roared._

_Asher felt angry. She felt her lips curl back as a black rage burned within her heart, and a voice that was not hers came from the depths of her throat. “You betrayed me first!”_

Asher jerked awake. Magnus gave a great snort beside when she jumped, but otherwise didn’t stir from his sleep. Her chest rose and fell as she stared up at the dark ceiling. Neither Hermione nor Ginny had awoken. Asher was thankful for that. She did not want to know about her night terrors, and she clenched her eyes shut. Maybe if she could shove the images away then she could fall back to sleep. 

Thiry minutes later, Asher’s heart was still pounding in her chest. Realizing that sleep was not coming back to her, Asher patted Magnus’s head before she slipped out of bed. Hermione and Ginny were still sound asleep, so she hadn’t been screaming in her sleep. She was grateful for that bit of solace, and she ran her fingers through her hair before she left the room. She was careful to close the door silently behind her, and she had no idea where she was going. 

She didn’t know the house well enough to go somewhere that wasn’t the dining area, or her room to find a place to sit down. She recalled Remus warning them about poking around, and she gnawed her lower lip. She made her way towards the stairs when she noticed a door on the right side left ajar. With a curious tilt of her head, she made her way to the threshold and blinked when she saw Harry standing there. He had his back to her, and was staring out at window at the street below. 

“Harry?” She called out, after a pause. 

Harry turned away from the window, a flash of surprise across his face. “Oh, Asher. I didn’t realize anyone else was still up,” he said, after a moment’s pause. 

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” Asher smiled, slightly. She stepped into the room, and eyed the strange wallpaper. There were faces like small portraits adorning the wall all connected by branches. It clicked inside her head that this was not merely wallpaper, but a family tree. She wondered where Sirius was on it. 

“Not really. Not after…” Harry’s green eyes grew distant and dark with thought. “I thought knowing would make it better. That if I had answers I would know how to fix this, or know how to fight back. Instead, all the answers that got just made me more aware of how helpless I am to do anything against Voldemort.” 

“What do you mean?” Asher asked. She took a seat on the blue and gold floral patterned couch. It was surprisingly comfortable. 

“Voldemort has been hiding. He hasn’t done anything to draw attention to himself openly,” Harry said, with a grimace. 

“Which gives the Ministry time to discredit your story and Dumbledore,” Asher realized, . “Well, we knew from Fudge’s reaction at the hospital wing last year that the Minister was going to be a problem. He had never handle a real crisis well in his entire career, and more often than not went to Dumbledore for aid. However, familiarity breeds resentment. It was only a matter of time before Fudge looked at Dumbledore as threat to his position. The whole resurrected Dark Lord probably sped up the process.” 

Harry shook his head side to side. “How do you do that?” 

Asher gave him a look. “Do what?” 

“Manage to be so logical about everything,” Harry sighed, plopping down beside her on the couch. He stared dourly at the wall across from him. “I can barely string together a single thought I’m so…angry about everything, and you sit here putting everything together like it’s as easy as breathing air.” 

“You forget, dear brother, that I am a Ravenclaw,” Asher stated, with a light chuckle. “It is my nature to think of things logically, and it calms me. As it is your Gryffindor nature that makes you prone to take action, and right now you can’t. That’s partially why you are so upset, but destroying Voldemort was never going to be easy or straightforward, Harry.” 

“I know that, Asher,” Harry said, deadpanned. “I just…I just thought that there would be a plan, or that I would be a part of that plan. It’s just…haven’t I prove that I can be trusted? That I have fought and survive attacks from Voldemort before?” 

“Harry, this isn’t about you being untrustworthy,” she said, turned towards him. She looked earnestly at her brother, and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Right now, Voldemort is playing close to his chest. The Order is playing just as cautiously, and trying to figure out what he is up to. Putting you on the front lines is not an option. You aren’t trained for battle, and we have no idea if Voldemort has returned to full power or not. As much as I know you hate waiting, right now it might be for the best.” 

Harry bowed his head, slightly. “It’s my fault that he is back. How can I just go about the school year as if everything was normal when I know that he is out there?” He asked, quietly. 

“Well, we don’t if you actually going to go to school yet,” Asher pointed out, and bit back a smile at the flat look she received from him. “Look at it this way…we have time to prepare. While the Order is trying to figure out an offense, let us focus on the defense. What can we do to strengthen our position? What allies do we have? Where can we gain more? What spells or magic can come to our aid that will give Voldemort a reason to hesitate?” 

“You think that we can actually do that?” Harry asked, arching a brow. Despite all odds, Asher’s calm and focused mentality was smoothing out his frayed nervous. 

“We have the time. He isn’t going to make a move until he takes in account of all his allies, and then those he can sway to his side. Most likely the werewolves, vampires, and such,” Asher said, with a wave of her hand. 

“But doesn’t he hate anyone who isn’t a pureblood?” Harry asked, archly. 

“You don‘t have necessary like your allies. He just needs them to help him win the war. After the war? He’ll most likely double cross them. Kill those that would retaliate and bring those that he can control to heel,” Asher commented, her expression very grim. “Such is the way of tyrants.” 

“You’re probably right,” Harry nodded, a disquiet feeling in his heart. He had always known that Voldemort was bad, but everyone had never gotten into the details of how bad it really had been. Their parents’ deaths, Pettigrew’s betrayal, and the attacks throughout the years had allowed him to scratch the surface of what Voldemort was capable of. “You usually are.” 

Something flickered in Asher’s gaze. “No…not always. Not all the time,” she said, her lips pulled upward. However, the smile did not reach her eyes. She had made her fair share of mistakes, and messes. Sometimes, stains just don’t go away. 

Pullng herself from such dark thoughts, Asher lifted her face and looked at her brother. He was going through so much. The weight of the world was a heavy burden, and her heart clenched in her chest tightly. Taking his hands in hers, she held them tightly. “There is something I’m going to tell you, Harry,” her voice was barely more than a whisper as her flipped inside out. “And I need you to listen carefully.” 

“Alright…?” Harry was perplexed. 

Asher inhaled deeply, trying to find the words to say. The truth danced right on the tip of her tongue, and she wanted to tell him everything. From the crack in the wall to her meeting Amy Pond and the Doctor to everything that followed, but when she looked up to met her brother’s eyes…all her courage fled from her. Her heart sank like a stone to the pit of her stomach, and her jaw trembled ever so slightly. 

“Asher?” Harry prompted, eyes narrowed. 

Asher’s jaw clenched, and she swallowed down the knot in her throat so she could speak. “Let me tell you something Harry James Potter," Asher said, her voice deceptively calm. While she could not find in her heart to tell him the truth now, she could offer him something else. "You think you are helpless, but you aren’t. You have more cards to play than you realize, and I need you to remember this one thing as you move forward, alright?” 

Harry nodded, after a brief hesitation. He had never seen Asher so serious in his entire life. Her eyes burned with righteous fire and looked older than time itself. Her hands clutched at his in knuckle white grip, and his hands held back just as tightly. 

“Demons run when good people go to war. You are good person, and the war is here and demons at your doorstep. For all our sakes, give them a reason to run," Asher told him, solemnly. 

Harry stared at his sister like he had never seen anything quite like her before. "What do you mean?" He asked, his voice very quiet. So quiet that if it weren't for the fact that it was the dead of night, and that they sat so close together, she would not have hurt him one bit. 

She let out a long breath, and released her grip on his hands then folded her arms over her chest. "Voldemort fears you because he can't understand you, Harry. He fears you because he doesn't understand how you survive all those years ago, and he doesn't understand how you've managed to beat him back every time since," Asher told him, her tone pragmatic. "Use this to your advantage. Keep him guessing your every move, and let him learn to fear what you will do next." 

"I don't even understand how I managed to survive all those times," Harry said, with a shake of his head. "It was just dumb lucky with help from everyone else that saved our necks." 

"You give yourself too little credit, especially for someone who was boasting earlier that you did it all by yourself," she reminded him, and shuffled back on the sofa about a foot. 

Harry gave her a deadpanned look. "I was angry. I meant none of that and you know it," he said, sincerely. 

Asher snorted. "Angry is a mild term for what you were earlier, but I digress. My point is that you are resilient. Probably the second most resilient person that I have ever known," Asher said, with a faint smile of amusement. 

“Second?” Harry said, feeling slightly offended. His cheeks turned pink when he realized that he didn’t really have reason to be offended. 

"My point _is_ ,” Asher said, slightly amused, “you are a survivor. You find a way because it's too unthinkable for any other outcome. Those instincts...build upon them. Enhance them with training—physical and magical." 

"You really think that will be all it takes? Do that and suddenly we will know how to take Voldemort down?” Harry said, with a snort. 

"Of course not. The road to the end of this war will be made up of many steps, but bettering yourself is a stone you will have to make somewhere along the path. Better now, than later," she told him, with a shrug of her shoulder. “War waits for no one. Especially not the ones doing the saving.” 

The room fell quiet for quite some time before Asher let out a low sigh, and she got up off of the soda. “But I think that’s enough depressing talk for tonight, don’t you think? I mean, let’s look on the Brightside. We are no longer at the Dursleys,” she pointed out, with an impish smile. 

Harry let out a laugh. “There is that.” 

“And we are with friends and family,” Asher said, helpfully. “We should take comfort that, and let the bad things wait until morning, yes?” 

“I would like to agree,” Harry said, with a hint of sarcasm. “But unfortunately my head just can’t seem to get that message through.” 

“It’s because of your thick skull,” Asher said, with a mock look of pity. It was ruined by her lips twitching, and the twins both held back laughter. As soon as her laughter died, Asher rose off the couch with a sigh. “I think I’m going to go find something to occupy my time. I don’t I’ll fall back to asleep so easily, no matter how hard I would try.” 

“Remus warned us about wandering around, and poking into things,” Harry reminded her, pushing up his glass that had slid down to the tip of his nose. 

“I won’t get into any trouble,” said Asher. 

Harry gave her a disbelieving look. 

“I won’t,” Asher repeated, giving him a small glare. It soften almost immediately into worry, and her mouth fixated into a small frown. “I know you are keyed up from all that has happened today, but do try to get some sleep tonight. Or morning, depending on what time it is.” 

“I’ll try, but…not right this moment,” Harry said, quietly. “I just…I just need sometime.” 

Asher understood that. “Okay. Take the time you need,” she replied, with a small nod. She turned, and made her way to the door. 

“Asher,” Harry called. 

Asher paused, and twisted back around to face her brother with a questioning expression. “Hmmm?” She tilted her head to the side. 

Harry did not answer her right away. Instead, he looked downward at his feet with a pensive look upon his face, and then he inhaled roughly before he raised his gaze. “When you spoke about us fighting Voldemort…” Harry frowned, a concern expression marred his face. His emerald gaze searched his sister’s face, and that unsettled feeling in his stomach reemerged tenfold. “You spoke like you knew war.” 

Asher breathed in, sharply. An indention formed in her brow, and she struggled to keep her expression from morphing into one of panic. "All of us fight wars, Harry. Some more personal than others. Good night," she said, offering him a fleeting smile before she shut the door behind her. Her throat was tight, and her heart clenched painfully in her chest. Those last words that she had spoken to her brother had been the closest to the truth than he would likely know for quite some time. It left a bittersweet taste on her tongue, and Asher found herself wandering down the staircase. 

She didn't know where she was going. She'd rather wander aimlessly around the house than back to bed that would only invite nightmares. She had enough waking nightmares to deal with let alone the ones that haunted her sleep. Her feet led her down past the covered up portrait of Sirius’s mother, and idly she made a mental note to figure out how to get rid of the thing. From there she wandered into the dining room which was almost pitch black, with only the dying embers in the fire place as the only light. 

However, that wasn’t what drew Asher’s eyes. She froze in step as her skin prickled from head to toe with alarm when she saw the kitchen door was open, and illuminated by light from inside the room. Who else was up at this hour of the night? 

_Or was it…?_ Asher’s breath caught in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around herself tightly. She stood there filled with indecision, and her heartbeat thumping against her eardrum. She took a step backwards, and then another when suddenly a silhouette filled the doorway. 

“Asher,” Remus’s face became visible when he shifted to the right ever so slightly. He had a benign smile upon his face, and didn’t look a bit surprised to see her standing there. His heightened sense probably gave her away the moment she had stepped into the dining room. 

A relieved laugh fell from her lips before she stop it, and she pressed a hand over her mouth as her shoulders slumped. “Prof…Remus,” she corrected herself, “I didn’t expect you to be up at this house.” 

“Must be the excitement from the day that is keeping us all awake,” Remus said, with a twitch of his lips. “Feel like joining me for some hot chocolate?” 

Asher mulled over the idea for a second. It wasn’t like she had something more important to do. “Why not?” said Asher, tunneling her fingers through her hair. She followed him into the kitchen where he had two chairs drawn up to the black iron stove where a pot sat with an enchanted spoon stirred the contents slowly and carefully. She dropped into chair that Remus gestured to, and set her hands in her lap. “Oh…um, do you want me to go get Harry?” 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” said Remus. “Besides, I believe Sirius will check in on Harry.” 

Asher blinked, surprised. 

“Mad-Eye just left. Under the cover of night as he prefers, and he mentioned how you two had wondered out of your beds. After the commotion of dinner, it was no great surprise that you two would have trouble sleeping,” Remus said, with a chuckle. 

“And you just happened to know I’d wander down here?” She said, her head tilted to the side. 

“It was either go where you knew you could get a moment of solitude or poke you nose into some rooms that you probably shouldn’t,” Remus said, flicked his wand at the pot on the stove. The flames died, and the pot lifted into the air. It hovered over some mugs, and delicately poured the chocolate drink in them. Remus picked both the mugs up, and held one out to Asher. “I figured I would wait here, and if you didn’t show up go looking.” 

“This house is that terrifying?” Asher asked, taking the mug carefully. The warmth was comforting against her palms, as was the toasty heat still coming off the stove. It eased away the anxiety that had it’s claws deep in her spine, and she gingerly took a sip of the hot chocolate. A heavenly sigh fell from her lips, she thought, _This was exactly what I needed._

“This history of this house is terrifying, and more thank likely dangerous things still reside in the rooms we have yet to clean out,” the werewolf told her, warily. “Some things more dangerous than others.” 

Asher hummed. “I always knew that Sirius’s family weren’t nice people. He never spoke of them before, and I looked them up in the Hogwart’s library,” she commented, lightly. “I didn’t find much, but none of it exactly painted the Black family in a good like.” 

“I imagine not,” Remus said, with a rueful smile. 

She looked over at the lycanthrope with a thoughtful little frown. After taking another drink of her hot chocolate, she said, “It was bad it, wasn’t it? I mean, it had to be bad if he ran away.” 

Remus’s shoulders drooped slightly, and all his years suddenly appeared on his face in the form of lines and wrinkles. “Yes, it was bad,” he told her, his voice soft and sad. “Just how bad…I believe that is up to Sirius to share it if he wishes to do so.” 

Asher nodded, when an uncomfortable feeling began to blossom at the base of her skull. She sat up slowly, and fear skirted down her back. She _just_ knew if she turned around this very moment there would be someone standing behind them. A look at Remus out of the corner of her eye, and Remus seemed content sitting there. If it had been Sirius or Harry, Remus would have sensed them long before they got right behind them. Swallowing thickly, Asher slowly craned her head to look over her shoulder and her heart skipped a beat inside of her chest. 

It was the man from before. He stood in the doorway, with a dark, predatory look like the wolf who had cornered a fox. All the blood drained from her face, and her eyes went wide. A fact that did not go unnoticed by Remus, who frowned at her, “Hermione was right. You do look pale.” 

“I’m…” She hesitated, and pulled her eyes with great effort away from the ghost man, or whatever he was, to look at Remus. “I’m just not feeling well. I think it’s the flying. It never fails that after being on a broom for the next few days I feel like my stomach is turned inside out, and like I’ll puke at any given time.” 

“I told Alastor that, but he was determined that was the best way to retrieve you. He was probably right,” Remus commented, with a frown. “The Ministry can’t monitor the skies, but they can monitor the floo lines.” 

“They can do that?” Asher asked, “What am I saying? Of course they can.” 

“You have to normally go through the Ministry to set up a floo line. There are a few illegal ones, but it takes a lot of effort to keep them running and hidden,” Remus said, with waspish sort of look. “To have one linked to the Dursley home without the Ministry blaming you and Harry for misuse of magic would to have to request one from the Ministry.” 

“They would never approve it,” Asher said, her voice sounded faint to her ears. She peeked from underneath her lashes, and her stomach twisted when she saw that the mysterious man was still there lingering in the doorway. “They want us somewhere we can’t use our magic in order to leash us to an extent, and if we did…well, you see what they are trying to do to Harry.” 

“So cynical, and yet so true,” Remus chuckled, scratching at the scruff of his cheek. “Harry will be the chargers. They won’t stand even if the Minister tries to press.” 

“And the Minister will,” Asher said, sourly as if she had just sucked on a lemon. “That reminds me, Remus. Does this place have a library?” 

“Yes,” Remus nodded. “But the door leading to it has been sealed off. Bill and Alastor have put there heads together to conspire a way to open it up, but every spell they use they are rebuffed. It’s greatly concerning.” 

The man at the door smirked, grimly. He looked rather satisfied with himself, and Asher was willing to beat her entire family inheritance that _he_ was what was keeping the library locked up tight. The quiver of panic was now full blown because not only was it terrifying that he had managed to subdue all of the efforts to break down that door, but it offered a legitimacy to his existence. If she accepted the fact that this mystery man could affect things, it meant that she couldn’t play him off as some kind of trick of the imagination. 

“You think there are books of the Dark Arts?” Asher inquired, lightly. 

“It was full of such literature before Sirius left. He also believes that after Regulus—encouraged by their fanatic parents no doubt—joined the Dark Lord, the entire library is most likely devoted to it now,” Remus stated, with a frown. “It is one of the reason we want to clear it out. Just in case.” 

The mystery man’s smirk fell. He blue eyes turned vicious and he glared at Remus’s back. Then something like shame swept through his expression, and he looked away from Remus as if he couldn’t stand the very sight of him. That, of course, left him looking at Asher with a frown creased upon his brow. His eyes ran up and down her, and at her complete and utter stillness, he moved forward. His footsteps seemed to echo ghostly through the room, and Asher felt her heart kick up a notch. His eyes came to her face and lingered there for a few moments, his expression became probing as he studied her with great intensity. 

“Can you see me?” His voice was quiet, but it was not weak by any stretch of the imagination. It was rich and low like the feel of velvet rubbing against skin in the right way, and the sound of it made Asher’s skin tingle pleasantly despite the fear that thumped through her veins. 

Asher bit her lower lip harshly, and did her best to keep her gaze focused on Remus. It was such a childish notion to think that if she didn’t acknowledge him that he would go away all together. “I just wanted to know because…well, we don’t know a lot about the wizarding world and it’s law,” Asher said, with a worried frown. “I know that the Ministry obstructed all protocol with how they handled Harry’s underage magic. First trying to expel him without given him a chance to defend himself, and secondly because they didn’t even investigate the matter. Didn’t even attempt to.” 

“All that will be brought up at the trial,” Remus said, reassuringly. 

“So will the propaganda against Harry,” Asher countered. “I just wanted to even our chances against the Minister. They are to try to throw the book at Harry, and I want to pull the rug right out from underneath them.” 

“You want to retaliate,” Remus corrected, worriedly. “Asher, taking on the Ministry is not a good idea. They have more clout and backing than Harry or you at the moment.” 

“If the Ministry thinks that they have backed into a corner, they’ll try to build a cage around us,” Asher said. She took a sip of the hot cocoa before she continued, “We can’t fight them outright, but can use other things to our advantage. We…” She faltered, with an uncertain expression on her face because the mystery man had leaned until he was towering over her, and she swallowed deeply. “We just need to figure out…what exactly out advantage is.” 

“Can you see me?” The man demanded, his voice sharpened. His features were high lightened by the candlelight making him all the more menacing as he stared down at her. 

“We have Dumbledore,” Remus told her. “That’s our advantage.” 

“I refuse to leave this all to Dumbledore. He already has enough on his plate as is,” Asher replied, perspiration beading along her forehead. The mug of hot chocolate was held in a knuckle white grip. “You know, Harry was having some trouble sleeping, too. He was in the room with the family tree on the walls, and he will probably appreciate some hot cocoa along with some quality time with you, too.” 

“Probably,” Remus agreed, lightly. He wasn’t sure he should let this conversation go because if Asher tried to go through with her thoughts—no matter how much he agreed with them—she could end up in hot water. However, he could tell Harry needed someone to sit aside and talk with him. And Sirus would only add fuel to the fire with his anti-Ministry views, no matter how right those views were. He pulled a nearby cup towards him, and poured the left over cocoa into it. “You want to come with?” 

“Maybe next time,” Asher said, with a wan smile. “I think I’m just going to polish off the last bit of my drink and then head to bed myself.” 

“Are you sure?” Remus paused long enough to ask. After Asher nodded, he gave a slight incline of his head, but his face was still greatly concerned. “Alright. Don’t stay up too late though. Mrs. Weasley on occasion wakes up extra earlier to make breakfast, and I’m sure you know the earful you’ll receive if she catches you.” 

Asher laughed noiselessly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Remus lingered for a heartbeat before he ducked out of the door. “Goodnight, Asher,” he said, just before the door closed behind him. 

Asher couldn’t have whispered it even if she tried. She closed her eyes, and tension static cracked like a whip in the air. Her small frame shook with a shuddery breath, and she pulled her eyes open. Her lips were pressed together in a line, and she was ever aware of the shadow that lingered over her as well as the man who cast it. Delicately, she shoved her cup away, and she sat there immobile in her chair. Who was this man? Or better yet _what_ was he? 

Seeing and hearing things was bad, even in the wizarding world. That was dangerous enough. If he was actually real, that made him even more. With a breath, Asher made to stand up when the man launched forward. 

His right palm slammed down upon the stove top with a thunderous force while his other crashed down on the back of the chair, effectively caging her. Asher had fallen back down into her seat, with her heart in her throat. The man’s face was only an inch from hers, and her arms were drawn tight up against her chest. The magic seared across her palm, and it took everything in her to not lash out. 

The man was breathing just as harshly as she was, his body rigid, and his gaze riveted on her, desperation and aggression coming from his eyes. “Can you see me?” He asked, his voice harsh and she felt the brunt of it like a bristled brush being scraped across her skin. The sheer intensity of this man was overpowering, and consuming. 

Asher couldn’t answer right away. Instead, she stared at him utterly speechless, and pressed her arms against her chest. The longer she stared silent, the more the desperation on his face crumbled into despair, loneliness and agony. Despite her fear, her heart contracted painfully in her chest and before she could stop herself, she found herself saying, “Yes…” 

The man breath stuttered, his chest contracted and then he seemed to cease breathing all together. His cornflower blue eyes roamed across her face in awe and disbelief, as if he could not believe the words even though she was staring at him straight in the face. His knuckle had gone white from the grip he had on the back of her chair, and his Adam’s bobbed as he inhaled, roughly. 

“I see you,” whispered Asher, shivering as his cold breath fanned across her face. Her fingers dug painfully into her sides, and her heart bounced wildly inside of her chest. 

The man swallowed, thickly. His eyes searched Asher’s entire face as her words and the fact that she was looking him dead in the face was not enough of a confirmation. His lips parted as he ran a hand down length of his jaw, and his eyes narrowed. And then he was gone as if he had never been there, at all. 

Asher’s entire body slumped forward, as if she were a puppets who’s strings had been abruptly cut. She drew in a deep breath, and a faint whiff of cologne swirled around her. She could detect the smell of pine, spice, and ink that made her feel lightheaded, and goosebumps to break out along her flesh. Slowly she lifted her hand to cover her mouth, and whispered out, “What the hell just happened?” She looked around the kitchen, and silence was her only answer. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Asher is unnerved by her encounter, and the oncoming trial that will define Harry's fate. Lucky for her she find two allies that she hadn't expected to find.


End file.
